


Daisies in a Market

by Daidairo, miraimisu



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Angst, Antag!Agatha, Antag!Faba, Antag!Sabrina, Bodyguard!Gladion, Cinderella!Moon, Drama, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulative Behavior, Prince!Ilima, cinderella!AU, with sprinkles of Rapunzel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daidairo/pseuds/Daidairo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraimisu/pseuds/miraimisu
Summary: Moon lives in a big house with big curtains, big rugs, and big expectations. Her sister and Mother sleep in elegant blankets made of the finest of silk, whereas she’s always had to resort to a tough wheat mattress, a room atop a tower, and loneliness.One day, an envelope for a dance gala reaches the Berlitz household.And then there’s a handsome prince and his ever so mysterious (and irritating) bodyguard.
Relationships: Endgame Lonashipping, Gladio | Gladion/Moon, Ilima/Mizuki | Selene (Pokemon Sun & Moon)
Comments: 112
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't express how thankful I am for Daidairo's help with betaing this fic! We have both worked very hard on this and I don't care what she says, she's worked on this probs as hard as I have so she's a co-creator now and she shall be adressed as Eye Doctor now (no more peeps widening their eyes for no reason anymore).
> 
> Also, please beware of the warnings below! While they don't apply to all chapters or every part of them, they're a significant part of the story, so be mindful of them!!! Enjoy your read!!!

* * *

**WARNING!**

The following story contains multiple instances of emotional abuse and manipulation.

If this is something you aren't comfortable with, tread with caution.

* * *

Once upon a time, a girl lived in a big, big manor in a beautiful, beautiful world.

The manor is elegant, majestic and opulent, tucked away in a spot of a kingdom with great forests and enchanting places. Forests litter the kingdom, hiding creatures of all kinds and plants of all colors. The townsfolk flood the markets at the feet of the looming castle that towers in the faraway hills, eternally enshrouded in a mist of glory, opulence, and power.

The proud manor is surrounded by groves and hides a beautiful garden of flowers, vegetables, and herbs. If one were to walk alongside the manor, they'd undoubtedly see the tall tower spiking out of the roof, which is always crowned by birds chirping at the sun.

Inside the manor live three women, and despite the wealth surrounding them and the grandeur of the furniture, the curtains and the rugs, one of the girls is never dressed for the occasion.

The youngest of the three, named Moon, sleeps in the tall tower with a bed made of hay, and her dress is little more than a rag. She keeps her hair up with a cloth, and her hands and face are stained with residual cinders from the chimney.

Wiping those cinders never works, Moon knows. As she wipes some sweat off her forehead, she knows they'll come back later. She hums to herself as she cleans the first step of the staircase, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes' way.

She's not sure when she started cleaning, but she's _exhausted_. Her family won't accept a speck of dust upon the spotless marble flooring, that's for sure.

In the wide silence of the home, she hears the familiar tapping of a walking stick, echoing through the walls. Clad in her lavender dress and expensive jewels, her beloved mother stands at the bottom of the stairs, observing Moon's work with a smile. Moon can't imagine a woman more powerful and queenly than the lady Agatha.

"You are certainly doing well, child. Your father would have been proud of you." That's how little it takes to make Moon smile, so she does. Agatha nods and then points at a dusty corner of a step. "Make sure to clean that spot too."

Well, who would leave a spot so big uncleaned, anyway? Moon hides a smile at the thought.

"Yes, Mother!"

Moon hurries down the steps and sweeps the dust out with a heave and a pant. Her back is throbbing and her ankles are about to split into halves, but she's used to giving a hundred percent to housework, even if it grinds her to exhaustion.

Agatha walks out of the room, and when Moon is sure she's left and can't see her anymore, she silently jumps down the stairs and sighs, moving to sit on the floor by the hearth.

Something is calming about the low flames. In winter, the subtle heat is soothing and alluring. In her dreams, she's basking in the heat with her mother and sister, wrapped in blankets while reading books in peace. Maybe there would be something cooking in the kitchen, it'd be snowing outside, maybe there would be a little stray kitty curled on her lap, and–

"Child, what are you doing? I thought I told you to clean the house, not laze around!"

Moon gasps and stands up on shaky legs. She is quick to bow her head and apologize. "I'm so sorry, Mother. I was feeling a little tired and I thought I could maybe rest for a few minutes."

Agatha shakes her head, sighing. "Oh, well. Make sure this doesn't happen again. You want to make your father and your family proud, don't you?

The mention of her late father brings Moon to a startled jolt. Would her father be proud of her, seeing her work so hard for her family? She knows he would, and because of this, she nods carefully.

"Yes, of course," she replies in a subdued voice.

"Then you must work hard to make us proud, child." Agatha hands her a piece of paper. "These are the ingredients for tonight's dinner. Make sure to pick the freshest vegetables. Don't let any lousy, scheming merchant con a sweet child like you."

Agatha pats her head. Her eyes are mellow like those of Moon's biological mother– just like the mother she once had when she was just a little girl.

She nods, bowing politely. "I will come back shortly, Mother."

Agatha nods and hums in approval. "Do not play around. You know how dangerous the market can be."

Moon nods with a smile and leaves with a skip to her step. Agatha's concern for her always makes her heart grow warm.

* * *

The afternoon is calm today, with soft sunlight streaming through the thin shining clouds. The market is full of people at this hour, bursting with activity and people running from one place to another. The scent of warm pastries and spices fills her nose, and she waves at the few people she knows with a smile. She bumps into a little toddler running after his friends. Patting his head, she laughs as she runs away.

She remembers being that young, being that happy, with the family she loves so much. She can imagine everyone having a picnic in a beautiful meadow, laughing together as she serves food to her mother and sister. The butterflies, the sunlight, the lovely food– just imagining the smell makes her stomach rumble.

Moon thinks about what she can else make for dinner with the few ingredients she has collected from Mallow's shop. Maybe she can ask Kiawe for some meat to make a tasty stew, something that Agatha and Sabrina like, maybe–

" _Ah_!"

" _Oh_!"

With a yelp, she bumps into someone that stumbles back with her. A couple of tomatoes roll from her wicker basket to the floor. Moon hurriedly bends to pick them up.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching my step, I apologize from the bottom of my…"

As she looks up to apologize to her victim, Moon trails off. The world screeches to a soft halt.

A man with rosy blond hair stares back at her, hooded by a measly cloak that does little to conceal his tan skin, his caramel eyes, a kind, understanding smile. Sunlight hits him like he's an angel chosen by the gods above, and she's blown away.

She has seen this man before. This man… he's the prince of the kingdom. The heir to the throne. And his name–

She comes back to her senses. "I– I– _you_ – I'm sorry!"

As he bends down with her, he waves her apologies off. "Please, do not apologize, miss. I believe these tasty vegetables are yours, yes? Allow me to help you collect these."

When he gives her one of her tomatoes, their fingers brush. Sparks coil from her digits at the light contact, shooting straight to her heart, and it seizes in her chest. Her chest blooms with warmth at the nice smile this man offers her, and her stomach tickles with joy.

His hands, so soft and gentle. His gaze, so kind. She wonders briefly how it'd feel if he held her in his arms, to dig her nose into his chest, to let him hold her tight under the blessed sunlight of this beautiful, bright day–

Hurried steps cut right through her thoughts, and the moment is broken. A man with a sword runs towards the prince, wearing what Moon can only classify as a distressed frown across his face.

A man with blindingly platinum hair frets around the prince, clad in casual robes yet sporting a sword. He pushes a good head above Moon, and the emerald glower he dedicates to the world around him is the angriest she's ever seen in her life.

The prince turns towards the man, too, half-heartedly fixing his cloak with a curious expression. He whispers, upset, "You shouldn't run off on your own like this, you know the town is not safe."

The prince laughs him off, shaking his head. "Oh, Gladion, you fret over nothing. I'm sorry for worrying you, though. I was curious about this market. We have visited a few places, but this is the busiest of all yet, wouldn't you agree?"

The man she assumes is his guard folds his arms. "Please, be aware of where we are– and stick close to me, for God's sake." Gladion takes it upon himself to readjust the cloak around his head, and picks up his oversized glasses before handing them to him. "I knew coming here was a terrible idea."

Moon doesn't exactly know what to do. What is she supposed to do?

Words spill out of her control, "You… you're the–!"

The guard quickly covers her mouth with a snarl, and his hand hovers over the hilt of his sword. "Who is this woman? Is this peasant bothering you? Did she hurt you?"

A flick of vexation sparks in her. For how nice the prince is, this man is all sorts of hasty and rude.

The prince shakes his head and looks at Moon again. Her irritation is subdued instantly. "I bumped into her shortly before you found me. Nothing was broken– but I beg your pardon, miss. I do hope you will be so kind as to keep my presence a secret."

As he says the word _secret_ , the guard flicks his sword partly out. The silver of iron shines so bright and looks so sharp it's almost more intimidating than the man himself.

Swallowing a spark of fear, Moon nods, smiling. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anger your guard."

The prince nods and beckons her to follow them to a more secluded area. When they're in a semi-hidden spot of the market, the prince removes his cloak and big glasses and bows his head politely. Moon picks up her dress and reciprocates the gesture, much like she'd seen Sabrina do before the mirror. Somehow, she feels more clumsy than Sabrina had looked.

"My name is Ilima, though I assume by your expression that you knew that already."

Moon's cheeks blister. She hugs her purchases tighter to her chest. "Oh! I– I, um… I noticed, yes. I d-didn't mean to make a big deal out of it, I was just, um– I have never seen anyone from the palace before, except in books and posters, so…"

Behind Ilima, Gladion sighs with impatience. Ilima laughs. It's such a melodic, beautiful sound that she can't help but pocket each note in her little heart. "Please, don't concern yourself with my status. My guard is prone to anger, but I certainly am not."

"She knocked off your disguise, Your Highness," Gladion says in a growl, clearly displeased. "I don't take lightly to your identity being discovered."

"Please, Gladion, do you really think a girl this small would do such a thing on purpose?" Ilima asks, but Moon sees a shimmer of humor in his words and musters a smile. "Besides, I don't think I have ever seen any of those girls sport a face full of cinders. What is your name, miss?"

"I-It's Moon, Your Highness."

"A beautiful name, indeed." Moon's face flushes scarlet under the thin layers of ashes on her cheeks– nobody has ever called her name beautiful before. Ilima's eyes sink to the goods in her arms. "Those vegetables look tasty. May I know where you found them?"

Moon looks at her basket, suddenly self-conscious. Won't he judge her for not having lavish foods? Is he interested in what she's bought, in _her_? Just the thought of it makes her cheeks rosy.

"I bought them at Mallow's shop. She– She always has the best deals and… she's really nice!" She's making a fool out of herself, isn't she? She takes a deep breath to steady her voice. "I could take you there if you wish."

Ilima's expression brightens up, and Gladion squares his jaw. "Your Highness, we should be careful. We don't know where this woman could want to take you."

Moon lowers her eyes. "I promise I– I have no intention of hurting His Highness. This town may not always be the safest, but I promise I'm not a criminal."

Gladion glares at her. "All criminals will say that they're innocent."

"Well, any criminal would have probably acted the moment they found His Highness alone, yet I didn't."

That shuts him up completely. His eyes are wide and he nearly looks offended, and Moon remembers Agatha's lessons on etiquette at that moment: a lady should _never_ speak out of turn.

Before she can apologize, Ilima chuckles.

"Ah, it has been a while since I saw Gladion be scolded for being paranoid. I would take a dose of that every day if I could."

The guard squares his jaw. "Your Highness, my concerns are _not_ for naught."

Ilima turns to him with a kind, brilliant smile. "Well then, if they are not, I will have you to protect my back. Moon can guide us to that woman's stand, if that is okay with her."

Moon nods with wide eyes and a big smile, fidgeting with her basket "O-Of course. Follow me, please."

As they walk out, the prince walks right by her side, and Moon thinks this might be a dream that's coming true.

It would be a literal dream come true to spend some time with the prince, and the prospect of walking alongside him brings butterflies down her stomach. He's so generous and benevolent to a poor girl like her– she feels undeserving, blessed, and she's scared she may break into laughter out of glee.

There's a burning sensation at the back of her neck, though, and when she turns over her shoulder, she finds Gladion to be staring at her relentlessly.

Maybe he can't express any other emotion besides anger. Moon's left to sigh at his stubbornness.

At least he hasn't tried to arrest her.

* * *

Moon enters her house, feeling distracted and lighter than air– so much so that when she stumbles with Sabrina at the entrance, she doesn't notice until her vegetables fall to the floor and Sabrina starts screaming at her.

"What do you think you're doing? I knew you were clumsy, but this is on a whole new level!" Sabrina goes one step further and smears a finger across her cheek. "Look at your face! How did you even buy anything without scaring away the whole market?"

"Sabrina! Stop screaming at once!" Agatha's voice snaps from another room.

Moon looks at Sabrina's stained finger and looks at the floor for a second before bending down to pick up the fallen goods, mumbling a soft apology. It's always like this– Sabrina is constantly biting into her neck, but Moon has long learned that painful bites make the world a much softer place, in comparison.

Agatha walks into the room, shaking her head as soon as she sees the fallen groceries. "Well, Moon, I see Sabrina has a point when she says you are clumsy. What prompted that funny look in your eyes today, child?"

All the warmth from this afternoon returns in a wash of sweet memories, pushing all the harshness from Sabrina's words away. Moon breaks into a gentle smile, waltzing between Agatha and Sabrina with a spring to her step.

She twirls into the kitchen, smiling and giggling to herself. It's been a long while since she's felt so happy and full of light– a dull softness that she knows very well.

It has to be love. Love for the man that showed her kindness, love for that gracious being. A man of royalty, but also kindness.

Moon wonders what the risks would be of telling her mother and sister about this encounter since they made her swear secrecy. But how is she supposed to keep this a secret when she's so happy?

Moon skips towards them, grinning with a soft blush. "I… I met someone today!"

Agatha and Sabrina share a look, frowning. "Someone?" Agatha asks.

"I met His Highness today!"

Sabrina's eyes widen like saucers. "What!? You mean Prince Ilima? _The_ prince of our kingdom?"

Why is it that she's not surprised they don't believe her right away? They're always like this, disbelieving of what makes her happy, and she can't help but feel slightly irritated by it.

But, as always, she puts on a good face, letting herself fall back on the natural, warm feeling of a day as tender as this.

"Yes! He was so dreamy and so beautiful!" Feeling her cheeks heat up, Moon cups them with a silly smile, rambling more to herself than them. "He was so kind, too! And his voice… he's taller than in the paintings. He's also very funny, polite, charming, generous…"

Could this be like the fairytales say? Could it be that she will someday become a princess like she's always wanted to? A princess that will give her love to her citizens and her prince, living in a big, enchanted castle–

"Moon."

Agatha's voice cuts through her daydreaming. She grips her walking stick tight. "Quit your silly rambling at once. What have I told you about talking nonsense like that, child?"

Moon's heart tremors at her severe tone. "I– I apologize, Mother."

Agatha nods. "Secondly, what is this about a prince? I educated you to be a sensical, rational woman of virtue. How can you believe a man like him would pay attention to someone like you? You can say the most ridiculous of things, child."

How can this be ridiculous, though? Why would her mother be so repulsed by the idea of someone treating her so kindly? Her heart shrinks.

"It's not ridiculous!" Moon defends, clenching the front of her dress. "He was– he was–"

"Are you speaking out of place, child?"

"I– I didn't mean to, I apologize again."

Agatha sighs and stares at Moon in disapproval. "You see? Your daydreaming has turned you into a silly girl. Look at yourself, antagonizing your poor mother, and speaking out of line. Is this how you think you should behave?"

Moon is about to say that no, of course, but Sabrina interrupts her. "Moon, you're so stupid. Do you think the _prince_ , out of all people, would hang out at the market, where all the filthy peasants gather, out of the kindness of his heart?"

"He– He was very nice–"

" _Please_ ," Moon's eyebrow twitches at the interruption, "I bet he was just being polite or wanted to poke fun at you. I mean, look at you," Sabrina insists. Moon swears she's smirking– but Sabrina isn't cruel. She must be being a good, caring sister, looking out for her. "And, mind you, do you think a prince would fall for a girl dirty with ashes that wears rags? How delusional can you be?"

Moon's cheeks heat up. She never said she's in love, and yet, she can't deny herself this feeling, this bubbly spark welling in her chest. "I– I don't mean–"

The mother approaches Moon with deliberate steps. "Forget about that prince at once, Moon. You have other matters to attend to. Your father wouldn't want you to waste your time with your head in the clouds. You know this, do you not?"

She bites her lip stubbornly, breathing shakily. "I do, but…"

"Then, you know you must not distract yourself with endeavors as foolish as these. Your family comes first, remember that." Agatha offers Moon a kind smile that soothes Moon's nerves like a balm. "You will always have us. If that man _is_ the prince, he very likely only wants to use you. He surely belongs to someone else."

That's not what Moon wanted to hear, but she swallows it with the grace of a swan and the stoicness of a statue. She should have known this is foolish, but there's a part of her that's still clinging to the fairy tale, clinging to her hopes. Yet, doesn't Mother always, _always_ know best?

Moon looks at her with wide, tremorous eyes, like a deer caught in the starlight. "Do you really think that?"

"Oh, surely a man like Prince Ilima has women knocking on his door all the time, and I am certain he will marry someone more doting, of a higher status. That is how these things work, child." Moon's head lowers, but Agatha lifts it with a finger. "Remember, the world is awful, dangerous, and will hurt you. You will be safe with us."

At this, Moon wills herself to snap out of her hazy dream. She's right. A prince like him would only want a pretty, elegant woman with manners and money, and Moon is anything but that: in the end, all she has is her family, her home. She has to put them first.

She nods resolutely, standing taller. "You are right, Mother. I apologize for my rambling."

Agatha pets Moon's hair affectionately. "All is fine, child. Now, be a dear and prepare dinner. You can make it up for us with that."

Moon nods and goes energetically back into the kitchen, busying herself with dinner. She washes carrots and chops thyme with precision, focusing all her energy on the sound of the slices, the drumming of the knife, the boiling water.

And yet, the image of Prince Ilima prevails, and when she's sure nobody is looking, Moon smiles, allowing herself to dream again.

* * *

To her luck, Agatha sends her out for errands fairly regularly as of late. As Sabrina has come down with a terrible headache, she sends Moon out for herbs to brew medicine for Sabrina.

Moon walks into the market with the same subdued vigor as always, yet she secretly looks for Ilima's colors in the otherwise faceless crowd. She gulps when she feels herself getting too caught up in her wishes, and when she's deep enough into the market, she feels a pair of eyes observing her.

Moon spins around, expecting to find Ilima.

Instead, she's met with the cautious eyes of his bodyguard, observing her from afar with a frown. He's gripping his sword tight, glaring daggers at her with unchanging intensity.

He must still think she's a stalker or an assassin. The thought of Gladion obsessing over her like this makes her shoulders sag in annoyance, but she tries to go on with her day despite the very gloomy guard following her around.

Moon considers talking to him, but rules out that question, seeing as he has a sword and won't hesitate to use it.

Later in the afternoon, Moon thinks she catches sight of Ilima in the crowd. He's wearing a similar disguise to the first time they talked, but she thinks she sees a familiar pattern under the cloak, a patch of rosy blond under the hoodie, so she grabs her basket tighter and runs to him, about to call his name.

Out of the blue, Moon is yanked backward. A gloved hand covers her mouth and a strong arm wraps around her waist, dragging her to a secluded point of the market not even she knows.

When she's covered in shadows, she's tossed to the wall, and Gladion draws out his sword, pointing it to her throat. Moon's basket falls to the ground, and she backs herself further into the wall.

Gladion's eyes, vibrantly green and shining with anger, narrow at her. The blade glints under the hooded sunlight. "Explain yourself."

"What do you mean?" Moon asks, holding her hands up in surrender. "I didn't do anything!"

"But you were _planning_ to, weren't you?" Before Moon can answer, the thin edge of his sword grazes her pulse. "I can see you have herbs in your wicker basket. What were you planning to do with those? Are you plotting to poison the prince with an apple, perhaps?"

Moon's eyes narrow. "For a man whose manners are long dead, you sure have a very vivid imagination."

She regrets the quip instantly. Gladion takes a step closer until both his blade _and_ him are cornering her. He towers over her and enshrouds her in shadows. "Stop trying to deny my claims, I _know_ those herbs, and they can be used for evil purposes! You are crafting some sort of poison, aren't you?"

He's close, too close, and the leaps he's taking to justify his suspicions are beginning to overwhelm her. As her thoughts begin to cloud in fear, she steadies her voice and screws her eyes shut. "What– no! I would never do such a thing!"

"Then you must be a stalker!" Moon shakes her head vigorously. Gladion clenches his jaw. Draws his blade closer. "Stop lying! Don't think I didn't see how you looked at him. Nobody on their right mind would be so interested in a prince if it weren't to attack or stalk him."

"No! I was just impressed, that's all! It's not every day that we see royal people walking around as they please, and it's also very uncommon to find a _kind_ prince!"

"And what about today, hm? Were you impressed too?" With his body pressed so close to hers, she can't think straight– he's _too_ close. "Stop stammering and answer already. Did you intend to harm the prince?"

While Agatha has many times told her to listen to people and be a lady, being accused of something so hideous is crossing a line she's _not_ willing to overlook.

"Look, I was _walking_ around! I don't know why you would be so _paranoid_ over someone sharing the same air as the prince, but that is all I was doing– _walking_!" Gladion is about to respond, but she beats him to it. "I thought I saw him earlier and I wanted to say hello as any polite person would."

"Why should I trust your word?" Gladion snarls.

"So your relentless stalking these days has not paid off?" Moon accuses, causing him to scowl at her. Shadows gather between his eyebrows, and she balls her hands into fists. "I already said it the other day, I don't plan on doing anything to him. He's very nice, kind, friendly, generous– and I was looking forward to saying hello, but that's all."

He stares at her for an uncomfortably long time. She doesn't like his stares. Not at all.

"You _like_ him?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Not all people I have seen are this adamant about his _personality_ , considering he lives in a palace. I would have expected you to be of the shallow type."

Moon winces, looking aside and hoping the layer of cinders coating her cheeks will cover the blush. "I simply find him pleasant, and I would never do anything to somebody who has shown me kindness."

Gladion looks into her eyes, as though he's trying to read a book he can't quite understand. Moon wonders how much cruelty this man must have been exposed to if he's so ignorant of the concept of _kindness_. Moon tries to gather as much seriousness as she can, frowning back at him and hoping he'll just back off.

Thankfully, he does. Gladion sighs and sheaths his sword with a swift motion. "Don't come any closer to the prince. One day should have been enough for you, and if you don't want to be roped into royalty business, I suggest you stay away."

"Royalty business? What do you mean?"

"Nothing you must concern yourself with. Simply stay away, or else I will take matters into my own hands," he says, walking away into the market. "Also, pick up your food before it gets dirty."

And, with that, he's gone, and only then does Moon let her knees buckle as her pent up tension crushes her. She takes the opportunity to pick up her apples, her herbs, and her vegetables, cleaning them with her dress before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OG Cinderella: lady falls for a prince!!! very fluffy!!! evil mother!! love story!!!  
> me & Dai: let us present ourselves
> 
> We kind of gave???? a very wild spin???? to the fairytale so it's a bit super duper different but it's okay!!! you won't regret it until we get to the angst, which is considerably harder to swallow than the many things we changed here. So the story's gonna be more of a bodyguard/lady in trouble slowburn + royalty, dances, drama and dressing shenanigans, you're welcome vfhfjkdlklñsñ
> 
> Also yeah Moon has the hots for Ilima but honestly who can blame her like
> 
> Moon: I am a cutesy little girl in a small world and  
> Ilima: oh!! it is me!! the shining sun in the sky!! I shall blind you with my kindness and good looks, even though we will flesh out my character in later episodes!! will I be a jerk? will I be a womanizer????  
> Moon: what ring size do you need?
> 
> (dw we'll get to the lonashipping bits next week we work fast in hurr)
> 
> so yeah we'll see, also thank Dai for helping me give some consistency to this woman because honestly???? Moon can come across as blander than paper but she's great and sweet and nice and she might also be about to go through a Mental Breakdown in later episodes have fun!!
> 
> The story will be updated every Sunday! We'll see you then!! Stay safe and don't let anklebiters bite your ankles!!!
> 
> /rolls away


	2. Chapter 2

Moon wakes up to the sound of birds chirping on the windowsill of her tower. She hastily throws the blankets off, knowing that Sabrina and Agatha will wake soon.

She throws the window open to let some air in, disturbing the dust. Pigeons fly from the roof of her tower, and she takes in the bright early sunlight. In the distance, the cathedral's bells ring and echo as the skyline shines with cerulean blue. If she focuses, she can even see the glimmer of the ocean, far away from here, and she wonders if she will ever touch the sea.

She quickly changes into her shirt and skirt, pats her skirt smooth, and carefully walks down the stairs. Agatha has several times told her to walk like a real lady would: to be aware of her steps, aware that she can trip and fall.

As she makes breakfast, she hears Agatha and Sabrina enter the living room, waiting for her to finish. Moon wordlessly grabs a small teapot to make Sabrina's favorite lavender tea.

As she enters, Agatha clears her throat and holds up two envelopes. "I have great news for us, Sabrina. I received a letter from the palace this morning. It seems we have been invited to the next royal dance."

Moon gasps and her pouring comes to a halt. Sabrina squeals loudly, scrambling to snatch the letter from her mother with haste. "Really? Prince Ilima has invited us to the dance? That's amazing– let me read, please! The girls are going to _die_ when they hear about this!"

Agatha cackles at her daughter's haste, pulling her down while holding the letter away. She rips the envelope open with a small knife and unfolds the invitation.

" _To the Berlitz House,_ " Agatha begins, " _you are hereby invited to the Royal Ball to be held on the date indicated below. His Royal Highness, Prince Ilima of Cardevac, will be seeking dance partners from amongst the young ladies present._ "

The rest is history, as Agatha skips it casually. In the background, Sabrina fires a thousand questions at Agatha – about the dresses, about the carriages, the horses, the jewelry... but Moon is no longer listening.

She holds her hands close to her chest, imagining the thousand scenarios she might find herself in through the night. She sees herself dancing with Prince Ilima, clad in a gorgeous silver dress that sparkles under the chandelier. Her hands on his, as they gaze at each other, smiling, in love. A farewell kiss on her hand, maybe another on her lips, and–

"Moon!"

She snaps out of her daydream with a squeak. Agatha sighs in exasperation. "Lost in your fantasies again? We talked about this matter the other day, did we not?"

"I apologize, Mother," Moon says, bowing her head with a regretful expression– however, her sparkling eyes can barely conceal her joy. "I was just… I can't believe we were invited to the dance at the palace, it feels like a dream! My only concern is that I know next to nothing about dancing, but–"

"What? You think you're going to the dance?" Sabrina asks snidely, making Moon flinch. "Mother, she's not invited to the dance, right? She can't go with us!"

Confused and hurt, Moon turns to Agatha, who shakes her head. "No, Sabrina. Moon will not go to the dance with us. I thought this was obvious."

"But the letter–"

"The dance is a silly distraction, Moon. You have your duties at home and a dance that will leave you tired for the next day. That would be a pity."

Moon's eyes shake. She chews her lip. "But… it's addressed to our family. Why can't I go, then?"

"Noblemen like to indulge in such entertainments, but this dance is not for you." Agatha stands up and smiles at Moon, as though she's requesting her to understand when, in full honesty, Moon simply can't. "You will feel lost there. You will not like it there."

"But… the dance sounds like so much fun, Mother," Moon says, sighing. "I was looking forward to going."

"Your duty is not to fantasize and get caught up in dreams. Remember your father's last words, Moon? Do you remember his last wish?"

Moon's eyes sink to her bare feet, conflicted.

" _Make your family happy, my dear. Keep them afloat the only way you know how. Be good, brave, and pious, my little sunshine."_

Agatha approaches her and lifts her face. "Do not despair, child." Agatha's smile widens. "You have other things to worry about. Stay here where you are needed, where you will serve a purpose. You will do a lot better tending your home and keeping your promise to your father safe. The mere thought of you betraying your morals for a silly dance… my old heart would not bear it."

The image of Agatha physically suffering because of her silly dreams makes her panic, so she obliges immediately. "If you truly think this is what I should do, then I shall. I want to honor Father's last wish."

The mother nods, smiling with pride. "That is what I like to hear. Now, if you would not mind, please finish our breakfast while I discuss our dress designs with Sabrina. You know how to make gowns, do you not?"

"Of course. I love sewing, and Mother was a brilliant seamstress–"

"Never mention that woman, child. What matters is that you know how to make dresses, so I am certain you can make the best of gowns with your unparalleled talent, is that so?"

Moon is bashful about such high praise. She has sown clothes before as a hobby, but it's very likely not up to such pedestal-worthy standards. She plays with her hands. "Well, I can assure you I would try my best, but–"

"You will make the gowns, then," Agatha says, resolute in her answer. "You must make the most elegant, dashing and glamorous dresses so we can shine during the dance. After all, we might create great connections with noblemen during the event. We need to look beautiful, do you understand?"

"Ugh," Sabrina complains from the sofa she's still sitting on. "What does a Cinderwench like her understand about fashion?"

That nickname is one Moon despises with uncanny passion, even if she knows it stems from a place of sisterly love and a wish to make her more patient. Once upon a time, Sabrina had purposely thrown peas and rice to the floor close to the chimney, ordering Moon to pick and sort them. Moon ended covered in cinders.

After Agatha saw the mess, she ordered Moon to sleep there as punishment for a while. Thus, 'Moon the Cinderwench' was born.

Calling her that in the name of patience and love is something that Moon will never understand.

Agatha ignores the comment, continuing to address Moon. "I have great expectations. You will not disappoint your poor mother, will you?"

"I– I shall do my best, Mother."

"What a good child you are," she says, nodding with a composed smile. "Cook breakfast, and you shall go to the market to purchase the necessary materials. We trust you, child."

Moon busies herself with breakfast, thinking of the designs she'll make to avoid the stinging void of disappointment building up within her heart.

* * *

Surprisingly, that train of thought carries her through the morning, even well into noon, as she thinks of designs for their dresses. Moon knows Sabrina looks good in purple and pink, and Agatha might appreciate something of a similar color. Something with lots of layers, maybe a headdress with jewels and glitter.

Agatha always wears relatively dark colors like purple and burgundy, so Moon starts thinking of where she may find little rubies to maybe embed into the dress. She'll also like some sort of fur coat, and Moon is sure she saw Lana selling one on discount the other day.

And about the shoes–

From one step to the next, that heavy feeling of being observed falls on her like a ton of bricks.

Moon spins around. When she sees Gladion staring at her from a very conspicuous spot of the market, she decides she's _done_ with this, and picking up her skirt, she marches towards him.

To her shock and surprise, Gladion stalks away, as though he's trying to hide from her. Moon understands he's watching her in case she tries anything funny, but what's the point if Ilima isn't even here? He's being _ridiculous_.

At some point, Moon manages to find him with his back to her. Moon taps his shoulder. Gladion bolts up and yells, spinning to glare at her smiling visage.

"You're still following me, I see. Why are you running away from me?"

He hisses with the grace of a wet cat, "I'm _not_ running!"

"You have been running for the past ten minutes." And she's not precisely angered about it– she's been raised to behave with patience and grace, not engage in petty arguments, of which he seems to want to pick many.

"Again, I was _not_ running."

She willfully ignores him. "Are you here on bodyguard duty again?" Gladion blinks at her, eyes wide, and she tilts her head as the gears shift in her mind. "Is the prince–"

The bodyguard quickly covers her mouth, shutting her up instantly. "That's none of your business. You're too nosy for your own good, you know? I could very well have you killed for mentioning his name so freely."

He lets go of her and she clenches the front of her skirt, chewing on her lip. The thought of the prince being here sends her heart on a marathon. "Sorry. I was simply wondering if, um… is he here? Is that why you're on bodyguard duty?"

Gladion stares at her for a full minute. The crowd keeps on moving, but he doesn't.

"I never said I was on bodyguard duty."

Moon cocks her head. Her eyes fall on his sheathed sword. "You carry your sword with you, despite wearing everyday clothes."

"I'm working. On a mission. Which is none of your concern." His eyes narrow to slits, and she stares right back at him. For how gracious and kind Ilima is, Gladion is the total opposite. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

Before he can walk off, Moon chases after him. "Does this work of yours consist of following me? Because I would like it if you stopped this."

"I can't do that."

Moon sighs. "Why are you following me? Do you still believe me to be a criminal of some sort? All I was looking to do today is buy a few pieces of fabric, maybe some other medical supplies, and be on my way."

Gladion, far from arguing more, merely arches an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to believe you?"

This man is so, so tiring to talk to.

Moon shakes her head, and instead of giving in to the desire of telling him off like Agatha would have done, she musters a smile.

"If you want to watch me, you might as well do so right behind me. It isn't exactly pleasant to be watched from afar, no matter how efficient it might be for you." Gladion opens his mouth, but Moon holds up her hand. "You don't need to engage with me in conversation, you can just follow me in silence. If that is all I need to prove my innocence, I will gladly put up with it."

He scowls, folding his arms. "So you're suggesting I become _your_ bodyguard for the day?"

Moon smiles even wider, giggling. "Can it be that bad? I can assure you I will get in less trouble than his Highness."

Gladion studies her. He has this habit of watching her like some sort of pet he's taking care of, or like a map he can't quite decipher. It's not exactly unpleasant, but Moon isn't used to being stared at this silently without being scolded for a mistake.

So Moon awaits the scolding, his frustration, his anger.

"I guess you have a point."

She doesn't expect a corner of his mouth to curl, for him to stare at her dead-on without any animosity whatsoever– as though he's humoring her request. Moon is used to being demanded things and never having her requests come true, so this shocks her.

She almost regrets Gladion is her first wish come true, but it could be worse.

"You– you will come with me?"

"It will be easier to keep an eye on you in case you do something out of order, and I suppose taking a closer look at the place wouldn't be bad at all– especially considering his Highness has taken a liking to these shoddy stalls."

Moon pouts. "They're _not_ shoddy."

"Whatever. Just lead the way. I'll be close behind."

* * *

Gladion seems willing to stick to the deal. Granted, he's a knight, and he's expected to be chivalrous and fair, but he hasn't given that impression until now. He might be skilled – one can't threaten people that easily without being skilled – and he might be loyal, but he's rude and unlikeable.

He walks very tersely, too. There's a hardness in his eyes that wavers only on rare occasions. Once, they see a little child trip, and he swears his eyes soften a little as the child's mother picks him up. When a carriage passes by, he leads her to a side, albeit a bit forcefully, and when the crowd grows, he walks a little closer.

So he _has_ a heart.

That's good to know.

And as Moon is loath to admit it… he's attractive. It's unfair that a man with the demeanor of an untamed dog and the posture of a stiff scarecrow can be so pretty. His eyes are akin to sparkling, pale emeralds, and his hair sparkles like sunlight.

Moon keeps stealing looks behind her, and when Gladion catches her for the fourth time, he grabs her shoulder with narrowed eyes. They stop walking. "What's all this staring game about?"

She blinks to feign innocence. "What do you mean?"

"You keep throwing me weird looks. It's annoying." Gladion crosses his arms. "What's that about? Are you scared I might stab your back?"

Scared she might have offended him, she shakes her head vigorously. "Not at all! I was just, um…" What is she supposed to say? That she was staring at him because he's somewhat pretty but also rude and unbearable? "I'm unused to having somebody walk with me like this… maybe some people might follow me to ask if the cinders on my face are some sort of disease, but…"

The cinders thing is more annoying than shameful, but Moon is too nice to be mean, so she endures everything as diligently as she can– Gladion's constant badgering included.

He's been rendered speechless by this somehow, so Moon waits it out, standing still.

"You're weird."

Her eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"You're weird," he states with a deadpan. "The other day, when I threatened you with my sword, you didn't seem scared. But you're nervous _now_. Are you really more scared of me following you than my _sword_? You're frustrating."

"Well, being called an assassin _is_ frustrating as well, but I hoped you wouldn't kill me on the spot without proof," Moon adds with a terse smile. When his eyes narrow and his brow shakes, she's tempted to laugh. "I'm not easily scared, anyway."

That's a thin lie she can get away with. Despite how well she's trained herself to look composed and brave, she had been shaking at the time– a blade that sharp would send anyone into a panic.

But Moon refuses to address that and keeps talking with a smile. "I think you are doing a good job at keeping me on my toes– I haven't killed anyone yet, as you can see."

"This isn't funny."

And despite his words, Moon swears he looks infinitesimally amused– she didn't know he had a sense of humor, so that's another good point in his favor, at last.

Moon giggles then. "I apologize. You can try with other tactics if you find I'm being naughty."

She turns around and keeps on walking. Shortly after, Gladion catches up with her and follows her to Lana's shop, where fabrics are sold. She greets them amicably and beckons Moon closer.

"Good morning, Moon! Did Sabrina get herself a new boyfriend?"

Moon shakes her head, thankful that she's not having to carry anyone's groceries today. Gladion doesn't seem to be listening, looking around the shop distractedly. "I'm, um, running errands with him, nothing more. I would like to take a look at the fabrics you're selling today, and maybe have a look at that faux fur you showed me the other day."

Lana and Moon travel around the shelves of fabric around the shop, and Lana eventually leaves Moon alone. She checks the quality of the fabric carefully; she passes the sheets between her expert fingers, humming to herself and comparing colors, comparing textures, frowning at the quality, trying to think how it'd feel if she were wearing it.

Not like she will, but she can't let that get in the way of her job.

"What do you even want these for?"

Moon squeals as he appears right behind her, staring at the fabrics indifferently. He's alarmingly close, too, making a wave of heat spread to her cheeks.

She recovers her breath and turns to the fabrics again. "I'm making dresses for my mother and sister."

Gladion hums. "There's a seamstress in town. Doesn't the clerk of this shop do those things too?"

"I'm a seamstress as well," Moon says simply. She tiptoes to reach a roll of purple satin on the top shelf, grazing it with her fingertips. "I like sewing and designing clothes, amongst many other things. I suppose it's cheaper for me to make the dresses, anyway."

When he catches her struggling, Gladion sighs and effortlessly picks the roll for her. His height is inexplicably unnerving, and one of her eyebrows twitches. "So... you're a seamstress."

"And per your word, I'm also an assassin and a stalker, but I suppose we're in the midst of disproving that."

"You sure like to make light of a statement that could land you in jail."

Moon clutches the rolls fabric to her chest, smiling cheekily. "You're not going to throw me to those mossy jails you have in the palace, are you? If I remember correctly, we have a deal as of now."

Gladion stares at her for a few seconds, and Moon realizes she's spoken completely out of tune and turn. Agatha's stern scoldings come to her– she's right, in a way. It's not like her to joke about something as serious as this, what's gotten into her?

She nearly drops the fabric in her shock, but she clumsily tightens her grip on the goods just in time and smiles apologetically. "Um, I didn't mean to be so rude. You're right, it's a very serious matter I shouldn't be joking about, so I shall–"

"I already told you to stop apologizing for everything. You don't need to apologize for that, out of all the things in this world worth apologizing for." Gladion frowns and sighs at her like he's already tired of her, but his words are strangely patient. "It… it wasn't rude. You might be annoying, but you're not precisely rude."

"You… you didn't find it rude?"

"No, I didn't. It's annoying, _you_ are annoying, but no, it's not rude."

Moon blinks. He has a point– can she really walk around apologizing for every quip that comes to her as naturally as breathing, if Gladion says she wasn't rude? But, at the same time, hadn't her Mother said the complete opposite on the matter?

She purses her lips and nods, marching towards Lana to pay for the fabrics. Gladion waits for her outside, and when she comes out several minutes later, she's loaded with extra fabrics that she keeps balanced with her chin.

"Lana gave me these for free," she laughs nervously. "These are… slightly heavy, but I suppose I can make it to my next stop anyway."

As to prove her point, Moon wobbles away without another word, chin a little higher. Gladion follows her silently, and Moon is thankful he's not snatching her load away like she needs his help.

...Or so she thinks until she trips and almost falls for the third time. Gladion yanks her back to balance, gripping the back of her shirt like he's picking a kitten. "You just tripped on air."

"I– I couldn't exactly tell where I was going." Moon is tempted to apologize. "What matters is that none of the fabrics fell."

"You can barely see a thing with all those in your arms," he comments, staring intently at the load on her arms.

Moon simply laughs it off, shifting the fabric and clutching it tight to her chest. "I'm fine! I have walked with heavier things in my hands, so…"

She trails off as Gladion shakes his head and, with unusual delicacy, peels her hands off the fabrics and takes them into his arms. Moon stares at him, bewildered, and he looks aside with a scowl and a squared jaw.

"It's a hassle to watch after your step. That's _your_ job, not mine. I have told you several times to be mindful of where you walk." Gladion jerks his chin forward. "Lead the way."

"Oh, um… aren't those a little heavy? They're mine, after all, so perhaps I should be the one carrying them–"

"Do you ever shut up? I said I'd carry them, and that's final– unless you want to trip and fall and get the fabrics dirty. That means you'll have to buy another batch and spend twice as much money."

Moon gasps. "Goodness, I'd rather not."

"Then shut up and keep walking."

She blinks at him for a second, catching the look of utter embarrassment and impatience on his face. Moon giggles to herself and skips ahead with a jump to her step. He trails after her as they had said he would, but this feels lighter. Easier.

Maybe he's not nearly as rude as he makes himself seem, so Moon is tempted to talk a little more.

"Seeing that you're willing to do me a favor, could I ask a question?"

"Depends on the question, I guess."

Moon smiles even wider, taking that as a yes. "Could you tell me a little more about His Highness?"

Gladion stops walking, and she turns to him. He's staring at her like she's grown another head. "Define _more_. Are you forgetting about why I'm here in the first place? I'm _not_ your bodyguard, but _his_ bodyguard, and you're under my watch."

"Yes, I remember that very well, but I meant as a person. I would like to know what he is like behind closed doors, if that's not too nosy of me to ask."

His eyes narrow slightly. "Wanting to quench your stalker fantasies?"

Moon thinks that if he's going to keep accusing her of things, he should at least be consistent. She sighs. "Just curiosity. His Highness left a great impression on me and, um, I was wondering if that's who he is to everyone. Including his family, including you."

"Me? What do I have to do with this?"

Gladion catches up with her. He walks half a step behind her, and she smiles at him from over her shoulder. "I suppose you will be keeping watch of me for a while, so I was hoping I would get to know you better, as well."

For a second, she sees a flicker of shock flash in his eyes. He doesn't deny any of her claims.

"His Highness is… he's a kind man. Perhaps a little irresponsible and immature and clumsy with the sword, but that's nothing teaching can't fix." Moon waits for the positive points to roll in. She's met with none. "He's also nosy and a bit of a womanizer, but I doubt he does that on purpose. He's pretty arrogant, though that comes with the job."

Moon is speechless for a second, trying to wrap her mind around what Gladion just told her: the prince is riddled with flaws and vices that one would not have expected from a man of his caliber.

She pouts, stopping to let him stand beside her. "Aren't you being a bit harsh? He's a good man!"

"He is, but that doesn't mean he isn't human." Gladion clicks his tongue. "Are you that naïve to think he's perfect? Everyone has their faults, you know."

Moon eyes him with uncertainty, unsure. She hadn't considered that; in the same way that Agatha was possibly holding her above the standards she deserves to make a dress, Moon might be doing the same with the prince without realizing it. She hadn't felt well about being trusted with that level of perfection, and the prince could very well be the same.

A wave of guilt washes over her, and she purses her lips. Gladion sighs.

"Keep walking," he urges, giving her a firm yet gentle push. "I don't want to carry you all the way to a clinic just because you were distracted."

So he can be polite, too. Biting her lip with a smile, she turns to Gladion again. "Can I ask something else, maybe?"

His eyes narrow. "I guess you can."

"How did you become his bodyguard? You must have gone through great training to stand by his side as you do today, right? And if you're his bodyguard, why are you here without him?"

For a moment, Gladion makes no sign that he's heard her, but after a brief pause, he responds– but not exactly to what she asks.

"I'm here because of an order to keep an eye on you. I'm stuck with you until further notice."

Moon gasps. "Did his Highness order that?" Gladion nods very, very curtly, his jaw locked. She beams like a star. "That means he remembers me, right? I mean, I'm not the most memorable person, but… I suppose a face full of cinders is easy to remember, maybe?"

Agatha has already warned her to keep her feet on the ground. She's supposed to let go of these wayward feelings to keep herself safe and her family happy. She'd do anything for her mother and sister, and yet...

Gladion clears his throat. "In any case, I'm here on a mission. As to how I got the job, though… that's a story I'd rather not share."

A simmer of darkness creeps up his voice as he says that, and Moon decides to let the subject drop. As he follows her to another shop, they fall into an easy, relaxed silence.

Moon looks at the items on display and smiles wide, pointing at the herbs at the front. "Look at that! That's a rare flower that only grows in– goodness, and they have black cohosh as well and– that's horse chestnut, that's _dangerous_."

She keeps mumbling things to herself, ignoring Gladion's shock at her words. He looks _floored_. "Hold up, you're also a pharmacist?"

She smiles at him easily, trying not to come across as arrogant. "I'm more of a doctor, as I take care of my family's illnesses with my father's books. And… maybe I'm a bit of a chef too, judging by what Sabrina has told me, but perhaps she was joking…"

Moon walks to the door of the shop, deep in thought. Gladion trails after her.

"Wait, how many things can you do?" he demands, his voice incredulous.

She laughs as he follows her into the shop.

* * *

A few hours later, Gladion leaves her outside the market and bids her farewell. The sun has set by the time she gets home, so she does some further cleaning and cooks dinner.

When the plates have been washed and night has fully fallen, Moon stays inside her room, kneeling on the floor, designing Agatha and Sabrina's dresses. The papers are thrown everywhere, but it's a kind of chaos she navigates well in.

She's well into designing the shoes when Agatha knocks on her door, although she enters without any permission given.

Moon is quick to hide the silly doodles she's made at a corner of a what-if dress for herself. Agatha surveys her work and nods with a hum. "I see today has been productive for you, even if you got here late."

"I got a lot of inspiration from Lana's shop. I hope these gowns will be up to your standards, Mother."

Agatha ruffles Moon's hair affectionately, and the younger girl can't help but smile at the gesture. "You will surely do great, child. Make sure to rest well, so you can work on this as best as you can tomorrow. Sabrina will get impatient if she does not see results soon."

Moon nods enthusiastically and returns to her drawing. But when Agatha retreats, Moon looks back up at her.

"Um, Mother? Could I ask you a question?"

The mother frowns. "Oh? What is it now, Moon?"

Moon flinches, chewing her lip. "Um… I suppose that you are still convinced it would be preposterous for me to attend the dance, right?"

Her eyes darken. "Are you daydreaming again, child? Where is this opposition coming from?"

That's a good question Moon can't answer properly. It's a mixture of things that have her acting unlike herself, unlike the picture of proper behavior and timidness Agatha had ingrained in her.

Perhaps it had been Gladion's company that reminded her of the dance, of his Majesty's future presence in the dance, of the many hopes she has to see him again, to dance with him– and maybe more, if fate will let her make her wishes come true.

"N-Nowhere! I was just wondering, seeing these designs… I was imagining what it could be like for me to go, too, and– and I suppose that maybe if I work extra hard before the dance I can–"

Agatha's hand is on her hair again. She pets her head once more, although the move is stiffer than before.

"Child," she begins. "Do not distract yourself with silly fairytales and dreams. That dance is not your place to be. You remember your duties, do you not? Is it that you do not want to make your dear family happy?"

"No, surely not! You and Sabrina work so hard for me, I would never let you down, Mother."

But do they do their best for her, really?

Agatha nods firmly, taking a step away from Moon. "Then, make your father proud. Focus on those beautiful dresses. You are doing a great job. We will wear them proudly and make sure the king and queen see them. Do something you are proud of, and that will make us happy."

She shuts the door behind her, leaving Moon alone with her thoughts, her drawings, and a hollowing space in her heart.

Why isn't she as fully happy as Agatha expects her to be?

And why is she still longing for something she seemingly will never have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tis is what I call shipxposition, or as one would call it, me fawning and crying over my children as they interact and refuse to get along properly :') don't you love the hissy alley cat / artistocat dynamic????? I do
> 
> "with the grace of a wet cat" might be my favorite dialogue tag to define Gladion and no, I am not sorry, I will no retract my statement and any attempt to change my mind will be met with a gunshot
> 
> also yes I'm aware we had a very not good conversation with Agatha, an instance of Why Moon Cannot Do What She Wants, but after writing this fic I'm immune to Agatha's bs and manipulation, so really???? this is extremely mild. Agatha telling Moon to do her homework is a peanut compared to the watermelons rolling our way next chaps
> 
> also Gladion's reasons and obviously his plot will be addressed later, there's no shoe left untied in this monster I can assure you of that much ROFL
> 
> also Gladion is tol and Moon is smol that scene with him picking up her things fixed m life hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyfdijuskmlasvd
> 
> anyway bye
> 
> also pls beware that a lot of "Moon knows" regarding Agatha and Sabrina will be thoroughly, extremely, passionately and intensely debunked later ok toodles
> 
> /rolls away


	3. Chapter 3

Not much more than a week later, Moon walks by the slope that leads to the river, laundry basket in hand, and catches sight of a platinum blur on the grass.

She does a double-take and stops walking, blinking as if to make sure she's not seeing a ghost.

She leans over the flower-dotted slope. Her shadow covers his serene face. It's Gladion, sleeping whilst on duty, she'd assume, considering he insists every day that he has no other business in town than investigating her and the market.

Moon gently lowers her laundry basket on the grass and pokes his cheek, squatting by his side. "Gladion. Gladion, wake up."

He half-grunts, half-moans at her to leave him alone as he turns onto his side. He's oddly cute, sleepy and stubborn like this.

Every time she heads to the market, he's stiff and guarded, but always by her side. He insists he's not her bodyguard– if anything, he's an authority watching out for any trouble she may cause, and Moon is unsure how her boring life hasn't proved her innocence yet.

Yet, he still sticks around. Moon doesn't find his presence as bothersome as she once did, so that's a plus.

She leans down and gives his shoulder a gentle shake. "You should stop lazing around. I thought you were a man with priorities. Who will defend the prince if you're not there?"

Despite her persistence, he doesn't move. Moon regards his sleeping form thoughtfully. He must be awfully tired if he's sleeping in public and refusing to wake.

She remembers the times when she was younger, when she'd fall asleep on her mother's lap sometimes and wake up to tasty cookies in the oven – or even better, malasadas.

She leaves her laundry basket in his lacking care and runs to the market for a second.

A few minutes later, Moon is back with a bag. It smells delicious, so much so that she wants to dig in– instead, she sits down by his side and picks a few flowers from the grass, tying them together neatly while Gladion sleeps peacefully, bathing in the morning sunlight.

When Gladion wakes up, Moon is crowning his head with a chain of beautiful flowers. He notices the soft touch of the daisies as he opens his eyes, reaching above his head while Moon smiles at him. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Gladion runs his hands over his face, groaning hoarsely. "Why are you here? Were you planning something sneaky?"

Moon blinks. "Of course not– and you are aware you fell asleep in the middle of a public area, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he says gruffly, supporting himself on an elbow while he fidgets with the crown on his head. "What I don't understand is why you're here, giving me flower crowns of all things."

At this, Moon beams. "Ah, that's not the only thing I have for you!"

She digs out a lukewarm pastry from the paper bag on her lap. It has patches of grease at the bottom.

Gladion stares at the pastry in disbelief. "What is that?"

She frowns softly. "You're joking, aren't you? It's a malasada. Fried pastry filled with… I think this one has peach jam. Mallow told me these would be the tastiest this season, so I thought you would like them."

Gladion's eyes flick from the sweet pastry to her. She wags the food encouragingly, as though she's trying to convince a hissy cat to eat its food. Begrudgingly, Gladion grabs it, eyeing it from all angles.

"I suppose you bought this for me, right?" he asks. Moon nods. "What if you poisoned this to get rid of your number one enemy?"

"Excuse me, did you just call yourself _my_ enemy?" she asks with a quiet laugh while Gladion grits his teeth.

"Yes, I did, because as far as I know, you might have been up to trouble while I was napping, and you could have put some sort of poison here– after all, you mentioned you know about medicine, and–"

She gently takes the malasada and breaks off a piece of the pastry. She plops it in her mouth, rejoicing in how his jaw drops.

Moon giggles. "It doesn't taste poisonous to me."

With a huff, Gladion grabs the pastry from her again, so hastily that their fingers brush. Moon realizes that his fingers are tainted black with her cinders, nothing too obvious, but enough for her to feel self-conscious. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

Biting her lip, she grabs the laundry basket from his side and walks closer to the river. The waters are pleasantly warm today, the sun glitters on the surface of the river.

Her reflection stares back at her from within the azure depths. She dips her hands into the water, scrubbing the muck away thoroughly before bringing them to her face to do the same thing. When she's done, she gently shakes off the beads of water stuck to her bangs.

Behind her, Gladion sighs. "I didn't need you to buy me anything. I can take care of myself."

Moon absent-mindedly combs her hair, thoughtful. "I assumed you were sleeping because you were tired."

"I… I wasn't tired."

"Really? Why were you sleeping, then?"

As she unfolds her clothes, Gladion grunts, "The weather is unfairly pleasant today."

Moon simply nods. She doesn't mean to tease him, as easy as that would be. She's not _that_ mean. "Sure, but Father always insisted that we should help people whenever we can. I thought you would enjoy some food."

Gladion lets out a small growl. He bites into the malasada and proceeds to chew it so unnaturally she's sure he's _trying_ to look displeased. "Being so nosy will get you killed one day."

"Ah, so you have told me several times." Moon grins at him softly. "But I should let you know that I can take care of myself just fine."

Moon dips one of Agatha's robes into the water and starts rubbing rosemary soap over the garment.

"Can I ask something?"

Moon turns her head to him. He's not looking at her, oddly focused on the clear sky above them. "Sure."

"Why do you always walk around with your face covered in cinders?" His brow knits as he speaks, and then, he shakes his head. "N-Not like I care about it, but I'm curious. It's strange to see."

"Why would it be?"

His eyes narrow. "A girl living in such a respectable mansion, walking around like that? Some would consider you unsightly."

"Well, do _you_ consider me unsightly?"

She doesn't realize how personal the question is until he begins to stammer for an answer, and with rosy cheeks, she giggles. Gladion squares his jaw and screws his eyes shut.

"That– that's not the point. That doesn't matter to me. _At all_. What I'm trying to say is that it's unusual to see a girl walking around covered in ashes like you do. Not someone from a house like yours, at least."

She knows that, but it's not something she notices all that often. Back in her hometown she'd often trip into puddles and stain her face, and her best friends would often laugh at her because of her clumsiness. She's just a bit forgetful, a bit messy, and not everyone in town likes that.

Moon knows what people think about her– and she's glad Gladion isn't like those people.

She turns to her robes again and continues scrubbing. "I often have to clean the area around the hearth in my home, and my sister likes to tease me by throwing things around there– thus why I end up like this. I never really notice."

"But you did notice today."

"I'm so busy most of the time that I forget to look at myself in the mirror and I know my clothes aren't the prettiest either. My sister has told me many times that the ashes go with it." Despite the baffled look Gladion is giving her, Moon giggles. There's a joke there, somewhere. "Besides, most of the people in the market recognize me better with the cinders, and that's what matters the most."

After a brief pause, Moon hears the rustle of Gladion's clothes moving as he sits up. She looks behind her. Gladion is staring at the food intensely. "Is the malasada good?"

Gladion seems dumbstruck for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes. "What?"

"Um… the pastry you're eating. The malasada," she stammers, scared she might be missing something. For emphasis, she points at the pastry he's still holding. "I notice you aren't eating much of it."

He looks at the malasada. It seems he's finally back on Earth. " _Oh_ , um– yeah, it tastes good. It's too sweet, though."

Moon yelps. Gladion does seem like the kind of guy that hates and loathes anything sweet. He doesn't look all that disgusted by the overwhelming sweetness – just mildly annoyed. "I didn't really consider that, I'm sorry. You don't need to eat it if you don't want to, I–"

"Hmph." Gladion tucks the malasada into the grease-stained bag and drops it in his pocket. "It's okay. I'll give it to someone at the palace later. Maybe his Highness will enjoy it more than I will."

Although the idea that he has rejected her gift saddens her, maybe the prince will appreciate it. She can picture him gleefully eating the malasada, crumbs catching at the corners of his mouth, delighted by the delicious peach jam. He will surely appreciate it more than the grumpy pants she has as a makeshift bodyguard.

As she finishes washing the robe, she piles it on her wicker basket.

"You bought herbs again?"

Gladion is unusually inquisitive today.

Moon turns to the little bag slumped by the basket and nods. "Mother asked me to bring her some burdock and… I believe this is foxglove, though I'm unsure why she would want any of this."

He frowns. Hard. "Isn't foxglove toxic?"

"I believe it's good for the blood pressure. The doctor told her to buy it to make tea if I recall correctly." Moon recalls the little recipe check she gave her and counts the ingredients with her fingers. "Foxglove, belladonna for the skin, comfrey, and everything nice, as she said."

"Still," his voice is cautious, serious, "foxglove is toxic. That's worrying."

Moon's eyes widen in curiosity. "How do you know that?"

Gladion gets up from his comfortable spot and kneels by her side, sighing. "I study pharmacy in my free time. Do you know the little greenhouse outside the magnolia grove?"

"Ah, yes. It's a lovely place to walk by. The sun hits very nicely in the afternoon."

"I study there at night. The pharmacist in town allowed me to borrow the greenhouse so I could carry out my own investigations, just so long as I keep it clean for him." He points at the little duffle bag with a searing frown. "And those plants– they're toxic. They have dangerous properties to the human body."

Moon can't lie, she's not wired to do that, so she gulps and says the truth. "I… I know that, but they also have healthy properties, and if I brew them just right, then I can get rid of the toxic parts. You don't need to worry."

Gladion's green eyes dart between her and the herbs. His lips are pursed, his brows are wrinkled in a very ugly frown.

"Moon, do you want me to trust you?"

Her eyes gleam. "Yes, of course!"

"Then, I need you to get rid of these."

And the gleam dims considerably. The confidence she's been building around him crumbles little by little, because this is something she can't do. It would hurt so much to disappoint her poor mother.

"I… why should I?" Moon bites her lip, reaching for the bag. Gladion gently pushes it further away. "Those are for Mother. I– I don't want to do anything with them that isn't for medicinal purposes."

"Look, I might entertain and humor you for the sake of keeping things cordial between us, but at the end of the day, you're still under my watch, and I can't let a citizen walk around with something as dangerous as that." Gladion sighs. "You have potentially toxic herbs. I can't let a potential criminal run loose."

Oh.

It stings a little to know he sees their budding friendship as just a social contract. Just a part of his job. He still considers her a criminal in the making, and Moon can't prevent disappointment from blooming in her heart. She thought they were something more, something warm, something friendly–

Something akin to pride seizes her heart, a stubborn, prickly feeling. She snatches the bag with a swift motion, frowning. "You need to tell me why I should, first. I think I have already proved my innocence."

"Moon, I already explained why."

Aggravation is building up in his voice. Moon can feel their weak bond cracking, threatening to become what it once was when they met: nothing.

"Is there any other reason except needing to prove I'm not a criminal?"

Gladion's eyes narrow. "Isn't that reason enough?"

"I– I just– I don't want Mother to be angry at me. I know it sounds childish, but she tends to get irritated at me often, and I don't want to disappoint her. She does so many things for me, I… you wouldn't understand."

A foreign feeling crosses his eyes. His eyebrows twitch and his breathing falters, yet he remains silent. He eyes the bag with frustration, and then turns to her with a sigh.

"Rumor has it sellers from another kingdom are sneaking illegal poisonous herbs into this kingdom, and with the recent tensions between some businessmen and the prince, I'm afraid they might threaten his life with those herbs." He runs a hand through his uneven bangs. "Right now, anybody buying poisonous plants could be behind that, and I need to make sure it's _not_ you."

Moon's eyes widen in horror. Why would someone want to poison a man as gracious as the prince? The mere thought of it makes her heart wrench in sorrow.

"I… I would never hurt his Highness! He is too nice and gentlemanly to deserve any harm."

"And I agree with you, but if you want to prove your innocence, then you have to get rid of those."

Despite his harsh words, Gladion is strangely delicate when he takes the bag from her. She lets him, numbed down by the threat imposed on the prince. Rummaging through the bag, he takes out a bunch of the herbs, wrinkled haphazardly in his pale hands.

Thankfully, he leaves a few of the non-toxic herbs in her bag and hands her the little handful of admittedly ugly herbs and flowers. "Tell your mother they didn't have any of these in stock, and throw them to the river."

Moon looks at the bunch in conflict. Her mother will surely still scold her for this, and the thought of letting Agatha down for the umpteenth time these days brings sadness to her soul– but she doesn't want any threat to come the prince's way, and maybe, this is for the best.

Without a second thought, Moon tosses the herbs into the river. They sink into the waters with a sad plop. They disappear shortly after.

Moon goes back to washing. Gladion goes back to watching.

"I hope you know that those were expensive," Moon begins, short of breath after a long lapse of silence. "I don't wish for you to pay me back, but I hope you take that into consideration."

When they go back to the market streets, Moon distracts herself with Mallow's freshly baked malasadas, silently longing she could have enough to afford another for herself.

When Moon looks behind her so they can move on, she finds him looking at a sword, begrudgingly eating the overly sweet malasada she gifted him, all with a bothered expression.

Warmth wraps her heart. Maybe he can keep it this time, and she can forget what she just saw.

* * *

Even though Moon had obeyed his orders, Gladion continues to follow her. He's no longer lingering meters away; instead, he trails right behind her.

This presents a few disadvantages: the worst one being his constant need to disagree with everything she says. Sometimes she'll be surveying a small pile of apples and he'll tell her that those aren't good enough, and they will spend five minutes arguing over it.

She's much more lenient than him and only aims to continue with her day, offering smiles and giggles as an appetizer.

Gladion sometimes shuts up with that and assumes a passive role again, walking behind her. He never walks by her side. He's _always_ behind her.

The distance annoys Moon, somehow, and she eventually turns towards him with a small frown. "Why are you walking behind me?"

He looks at her with wide, incredulous eyes. "Because I'm working."

Moon giggles at his refusal to ever give her a clear answer, and takes a step towards him. For once, he doesn't move away. "You can walk beside me if you want to. I understand you're trying to look professional, but you look like a stalker of some sort."

" _You_ are the stalker until further notice," Gladion says. "I'm here to watch you. I'm _not_ your friend."

Moon sighs. "And that's okay, but I would rather you walked by my side and not behind me. It's more natural and… and you can ignore me. This is only for your job's sake, but I thought I should tell you anyway."

There. That sounds more like her and less rude. She doesn't want to impose anything on him, God forbid, but perhaps if she lets him at least _know_ he can relax a little, things will be better.

Wordlessly, Moon turns around, concealing her expression of disappointment, and continues walking.

All at once, Gladion catches up with her.

And walks beside her.

Her eyes widen at the sight, shocked that he actually _listened_ to her. For all the stubborn rejections he has sprouted out of his mouth, Moon never thought he'd listen to this request, out of all silly things she has hoped for.

"Don't get used to this," he grunts with a look of outright refusal, as though he's not really walking by her side as any friend would. "And don't leave my side. I don't want to lose sight of you."

Moon giggles with a nod. A part of her can't help hoping that he may see a friend in her, too, but she stills herself. Agatha has many times warned her how dangerous the world is; perhaps this hope, this childish longing, is one of the reasons why.

A couple of children run by her, squealing to one another until they find their mother, who grabs their hands with a laugh, and leads them away. Moon smiles longingly at the scene.

That is, until she bumps shoulders with a stranger that shouts at her to be careful. Moon spouts a thousand apologies in his direction before Gladion grabs her arm and drags her forward with him.

"Distracted again?"

He's not exactly disdainful, merely impatient. "I saw a pair of children with their mother. They looked happy."

"All kids are happy these days. It's nothing new."

Moon laughs at that. "They remind me of when I was little and lived with my mother. She was a very kind woman."

His eyebrows rise. "But you _do_ live with your mother, don't you?"

"Ah, she's not my actual mother, but she likes it when I call her that. She's my father's wife– well, widow. I live with her and her daughter in the Berlitz Manor, a bit into the forest at the east of the town. It's a really quiet place."

Gladion is thoughtful beside her. "So… you live with Agatha and Sabrina Berlitz? I remember the prince mentioning them here and there during meetings."

"Yes. They're truly kind people, Mother and Sabrina." Moon smiles, thinking about the promise she made to her father. "They take care of me, and I want to make them happy."

"Are _you_ happy, though?"

They stop walking for a split second.

Moon blinks. "I… excuse me?"

"Nevermind," he hurries, looking away with his hands in his pockets. "It… that was a dumb question, wasn't it? You're the epitome of happiness."

His words are stiff, and Moon can't help but be suspicious. It's not like she doesn't agree– she's always happy: glad to help her family, glad to be of use, glad to keep her father's legacy alive by making everyone around her happy.

But more often than not these days, she wonders if being glad is the same as being happy, and wonders if Gladion has picked up on this as well. He's more perceptive than she gives him credit for.

She turns to him, taking a step before him with a gracious smile. He stops walking at once, halting before her. "For a man as prone to assumptions as you, you have your moments of wisdom as well."

His eyebrow twitches. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I suppose." A whimsical cloud moves out of the sun's way, and the sunlight blinds her momentarily, shining right behind Gladion as she grins. "I'm a little tired, but… every day is beautiful. I have to work hard so my family is happy– Gladion? Are you okay?"

His eyes have gone big as he stares at her, but then he shakes his head and the mirage is gone. "Yeah, I am. I was just– I was wondering, will you be going to the dance?"

Moon's mood plummets at the abrupt change of topic, thinking of the dance so many women will get to enjoy, except her.

She feigns ignorance as she resumes walking. "The dance?"

"Prince Ilima's dance. I heard the Berlitz family are honored guests." Gladion looks at her intently. "So I suppose you will be going, too?"

"Why? Are you planning to keep an eye on me?"

"One's job never ends," he comments off-handedly, but Moon doesn't miss the shadow of a smirk that passes his features. "I might have to if you attend the dance. So it would be nice to know."

She sighs, hesitant. Granted, the fantasy of dancing with Ilima the whole night is tempting, but she won't do anybody a favor by being silly.

So she shakes her head with a smile. "I'm afraid I won't go."

Gladion hadn't expected that answer, it seems. He frowns. "Why? The prince has invited every lady of nobility from this kingdom. Is it that you are married?"

"Of course not, but I simply can't go." Moon sways her basket from side to side as she walks, mustering a smile. "I have other things to do, and as tempting as it would be to dance with his Highness, I'm aware he will have noblewomen flocking around him all night. I doubt I would have a chance to dance with him, anyway."

"I see you're still as obsessed as always."

"I'm not obsessed! I just… I really like him." Moon's cheeks flush scarlet, avoiding his eyes. "And– And Mother has warned me that it might be dangerous for me. And she also said it isn't my scene exactly either, so… it wouldn't be wise to attend the dance. Mother and Sabrina would be distraught if anything happened to me, so I'd best stay home where it's safe."

The crowd around them goes about their day, and she doesn't notice they have stopped walking until people start to circle around her to walk through the market streets.

"The dance will _not_ be unsafe. There will be about a hundred guards watching the event, and I can assure you that anybody with ill intentions will be shot without a second thought."

Moon giggles into her hand. "And you would still allow a filthy possible criminal like me in?"

His brows quiver in irritation. "Well, I would have to keep watch from the shadows, but I guess I'd be willing to take the risk– but you should attend the dance without ashes and… I suppose a nicer dress."

In a fit of self-consciousness, Moon picks at the collection of rags she wears. "I… I don't have anything with the glamour and class the palace seeks, unfortunately. And Sabrina and Mother are particularly picky about allowing me to borrow their clothes."

"Well, you're a seamstress, aren't you?"

Moon's whole world stills altogether. He can't possibly be serious, can he?

"Um, yes, I am, but–"

"You can make a dress for yourself, then."

"But Mother–"

"You can tell her there will be bodyguards. You're not lying. I can assure you I will have my eyes on you all night if you get to dance with the prince." Moon's eyes flutter, processing his reasoning. "I doubt your mother will have any problem, then."

He's so nonchalant about the issue, speaking like this is just _obvious_ , that Moon feels a little silly, although she's still hesitant. "I would rather not get my hopes up."

"What hopes?"

"Mother doesn't like it when I get caught up in my fantasies. I tend to get distracted and I forget about my surroundings, and I end up making mistakes. I've been disappointing Mother very often as of late, and I'd rather keep my feet on the ground. That is what she would like." Moon's smile flattens, lopsided. "And I doubt Prince Ilima would want to dance with a commoner like me. I… It's safer to keep my head on my shoulders."

Not wanting to talk about the matter anymore, Moon turns around sharply, swallowing thickly. If she keeps fueling the fire, she will cry in public, and Mother always said that dreams are ridiculous, that crying is ridiculous, that _she's ridiculous_ –

She only notices she's mumbling her thoughts out loud when Gladion catches up with her, matching her pace.

"You're thinking a little too loudly. You can be so annoying, sometimes."

They've exited the market, standing over a meadow of flowers that blows in the wind behind the busy crowd. The sky has turned orange, and fluffy clouds greet her in passing as they hover overhead.

Gladon walks around her. His sharp features shadow his stern gaze. "You must be tired if you think that way. You have the right to have dreams, too. Everyone in this world has dreams, and nobody should stop you from even _thinking_ about them."

She takes a step towards Gladion. "Do you have dreams, too?"

He grunts, "Everyone has dreams."

Moon smiles. "Again with the vague answers, I see."

Gladion releases a dignified noise and walks into the meadow. There's a wordless request in his stride that tells her to follow him, and for the first time in a while, she's the one following his step.

They reach a large tree that casts shade at its base, and Gladion sits underneath its scarlet shadow. Moon sits right beside him. She melts against the tree, relishing in the feeling of the breeze fanning against her clean face. "You were right. I _was_ tired."

Initially, Gladion remains quiet. Moon doesn't mind this, because she's used to silence between them. She's reminded at times like these that Gladion isn't looking out for her, but everyone else.

When she looks at him, he's frowning at his hands.

"I have dreams, too."

Her lips part. "You do?"

"I wouldn't say I have the same kind of fantasies you do, but…" Gladion takes a deep, deep breath while Moon watches him patiently. "Remember when you asked me why I work for the prince?"

Moon nods quietly, smiling in encouragement. Gladion looks away into the distance, focusing on something she can't quite see or touch.

"My family lives in another town, very far away from here. They're in a bit of a pinch, so I'm making as much money as I can to support them." His voice trembles at the end. He curses under his breath– maybe at himself, maybe at the situation. "I also want to make them happy. Like you do, I mean."

It's not like Moon to be this forward, especially seeing as this is a personal matter, but she can't help asking, "Is that why you're studying pharmacy?"

His expression curls in a flinch. Moon knows she's messed up. "That's… personal."

She takes that as a yes.

"And even if I was," another yes in her books, "it's a very complicated situation that you wouldn't understand. And secondly, we're not friends. I don't owe you an explanation."

It'd be easy for her to refute that claim, just by how they have interacted over the week and a half they've known each other. Sure, it's been a long time since she had friends, but she knows what it _feels_ like.

Agatha's stern warnings about people wanting to hurt her echo in her memory as a distant lull.

Moon decides to turn her head and ignore them.

With a smile, she sighs. "You haven't tried to explain it, either."

"I'm only telling you this so you will stop asking me about my past. You're annoying, and I don't owe you a single thing."

She grows a little smaller at his jab. "I– I mean, you don't, but it's not a matter of owing me anything. You don't owe me anything, but maybe it would help you to, um, to tell me. I'm sure you have friends in the palace you would confide to more easily, but… I like listening to people. I don't have many people to do that with, after all."

Her last words come out insecure and uneasy, and as Gladion looks at her with a scowl, she grows even smaller, fidgeting furiously with her dress.

"N-Not like you have to confide in anyone, either! Mother always says that strong people keep things to themselves, and I– I wish I was like that, too. I don't want to overstep, I don't want to be rude to you, you have been rather helpful today, and I would rather you be comfortable with me. Like you said, we're not friends, and you don't–"

"You're right."

"Huh?"

Gladion rubs a hand up and down his neck, sighing. "I was being honest when I said I don't want you to ask about my past anymore, but it's a complicated issue and I don't want to rope anybody into it."

Moon settles back on the tree, feeling at ease again. She keeps her fingers clenched on her dress, through. "Is it dangerous to talk about?"

The look he gives her says it's much more than dangerous, and it quiets Moon. She lets out a long breath, figuring out what to say next. He's massaging his neck, his jaw is unnaturally tight and he looks more pissed than usual.

Her mind goes back to when she found him napping by the river, expression gentle and unaltered by anger.

So she does what she does worst: improvise.

Moon twists to the side with a sweet grin and scoots closer. He stammers at the sight, "What do you think you're doing? Get off of me."

"You look tired," she says as her grin dims to a kind smile. His eyes glitter under the sinking sun, wondrous– until she covers them with her hand, giggling. "Close your eyes and take a nap."

Gladion's jaw clicks shut again, his hands are balled into fists, but he doesn't fight out of her grasp. He folds his arms. "Am I supposed to let my guard down in front of a potential stalker, criminal, or whatever you might be?"

"Still undecided on what crime you want to blame me for?"

"Hmph. You're so annoying."

But he still hasn't removed her hand, waved her off, or threatened her with his sword. She's never been this daring, invading somebody else's boundaries, but this… this is fun.

It's so much fun to be with him sometimes, she realizes.

"Take a nap. Do you trust me, Gladion?"

Silence.

"I'm undecided."

"Then take a nap," she says as she settles by his side, withdrawing her hand. His eyes are closed, to her delight. "I promise I will be here when you wake up. I will watch over you as diligently as you have been doing this past week."

Gladion chuckles. The tone is flat, almost mirthless, but somehow, Moon hears slight warmth in there somewhere. "You know I will wake up the second you try anything funny, right?"

"That's fine. I don't plan on leaving."

"... Good."

Two minutes and a half later, Gladion is fast asleep, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Another minute, his head rolls, and it takes fourteen more seconds for it to land beside hers.

Moon giggles under her breath. She watches him for a few seconds, lost in thought.

" _You have the right to have dreams, too."_

… Maybe she will drop by Lana's shop again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t h e m a l a s a d a i s a s y m b o l  
> n e v e r f o r g e t t h e m a l a s a d a
> 
> next chapter is the good chapter and you know that when I say good chapter it means tough chapter but that's what makes it good am I right hahAHAHAHA :) I'm editing this at 2 am and I'm feeling particularily evil, but Moon and Gladion being so soft????? it kind of softens me too
> 
> also the toxic plants thing???? it might not look important. is it important??? up to you to decide, it's not like I wrote this or anything and it's not like I gave that little scene a lot of space to exist. do not ask me anything. I discourage you from doing so. I don't know anything no time ever
> 
> one thing I DO KNOW is that 'something that looks like a bigger deal than whatever bs Gladion is saying' is a very strong vibe
> 
> “Yes. They’re truly kind people, Mother and Sabrina.” - in books, this is what one would call, may I say, a truck-sized contradiction
> 
> “Why? Are you planning to keep an eye on me?” / “One’s job never ends,” - I beg you to desist, Gladion, I sincerely beg you to cease this bs
> 
> Moon: *elaborates on all the reasons her abusive family doesn't want her to be happy*  
> Gladion: I secretely want you to be happy and to see you at the dance so let me introduce you to the wonderful world of Facts & Logic 101 because I don't know any better for plot reasons
> 
> rule #1 but should be #2 of this fic: if I present thee with level 20 of fluff, you'll be met with level 20 of angst. the moment you see a hug I'm gonna punch the living lights out of you I promise
> 
> it sounds more like a threat but it's whatever
> 
> anyway
> 
> /rolls away


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAT ASS WARNING: This chapter contains a scene with emotional abuse and manipulation. If this is something you aren't comfortable with, tread with caution!!! 
> 
> **If you would rather skip, after Ilima's scene, ctrl +f (or search in the page) the word 'greenhouse' and keep on reading!**

* * *

**WARNING!**

This chapter contains a scene containing emotional abuse and manipulation.

If this is something you aren't comfortable with, tread with caution.

* * *

Moon isn't surprised to see Agatha grow furious as she inspects her bag, devoid of the herbs she so needed. It's the first thing she asks of her when she meets Mother and Sabrina at the kitchen the next day, setting the plates on the table.

Agatha eyes the empty bag, sitting forlornly on the counter. She speaks with aggravation coating her voice. "Child, I send you out on one errand and you make an utter mess out of it. I should have known better than to entrust something as important as this to you."

"I'm so sorry, Mother," Moon says shyly. "The seller insisted they ran out of foxglove, and–" she begins to fidget with her hands. "A-and I had to buy extra fabric for your dresses, as well as pearls for Sabrina's shoes, and–"

"Blergh, _pearls_? The Cinderwretch has _no_ taste. I should have known someone that ugly wouldn't do a thing right."

"Quiet, Sabrina." Agatha puts both her hands on her walking stick, humming quietly. That means trouble. "I needed those herbs yesterday, child. I still need them. Do you not care about your poor mother's wishes?"

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then, you must still get a hand on those flowers and herbs. It is of utmost importance to us, as a family, and to you, as the talented doctor you could be." The _could_ stings more than it should. "Can I trust you with this task again, Moon? Will you disappoint me again?"

Moon bows her head. "No, absolutely not, Mother."

Agatha nods with a smirk.

At the back, Sabrina flips her magazines, looking for more impossible details to add to Moon's designs, fixated on enlarging her already long checklist. Sabrina has proclaimed over and over that she will tear her dress to shreds if she doesn't like it, and she's not exactly easy to please.

To say Moon doesn't want to see her time wasted and her sister unhappy is obvious, yet she's beginning to notice that it isn't exactly fair. Moon wouldn't like to see her hard work be torn to pieces, but maybe her skills aren't worth any more than that.

When nobody was watching, though, Moon worked on a dress of her own; since Sabrina and Agatha never tend to go to her room anyway, she's had leeway to work on something Agatha had strictly forbidden– and she's kept it somewhere safe.

Sabrina hums to herself as Moon fetches a shawl from the hanger. It's a little chilly today. "Maybe also add some silk to the upper half of the dress. That looks classy."

Leave it up to Sabrina to make Moon redo an entire thing just for a whim– and yet, Moon nods in pitiful acceptance.

As she reaches for the doorknob and thinks of the herbs she's to buy, Gladion's warnings echo in her memory. She can't fail this once, and if they meet today, he'll undoubtedly question her motives again and possibly arrest her once and for all.

But maybe if she makes sure they are destined to the right cause, maybe…

"Mother?"

Agatha grunts in displeasure. "You are taking far too long to leave. What is it?"

Moon plays with the ragged hem of her sleeves. "If it's not too much to ask, um," Agatha waits in silence, and Moon takes a deep breath. "What are these herbs for?"

"That is, indeed, too much to ask."

A flicker of stubborn irritation sparks in her.

"Why?"

The defiance slips past her mouth all too quickly, but it feels right all the same.

Agatha arches an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my reasons, child?"

"N-No! Never, I would never doubt you, Mother." Moon gulps. She smothers her hands on her dress. She breathes in. She breathes out. "But I– I was warned by the seller that the plants are expensive and– and he was curious about what I wanted them for, and–"

Agatha's eyes narrow. "Are you deaf, child? None of this is your business, nor that man's, for that matter. You appear reluctant to be helpful. This is not like you, Moon."

"It's not that I–"

"Again opposing your poor Mother's words, child?"

"No, no, of course not," Moon scrambles to answer, feeling her resolve falter under Agatha's darkening stare. Sabrina merely watches. "I was simply curious. Y-your choice of herbs was interesting, that is all."

Agatha fixes her eyes on Moon once more before holding her shaking head on her hand. "Always a curious child through and through, I see." Her tone sounds momentarily softer, and then she's waving Moon away. "Just go at once."

Moon nods hastily, not wanting to stir another argument, and zips out the door.

* * *

When Moon reaches the market, she half-expects Gladion to flash into existence like he usually would, to silently walk by her side like he always does.

She turns around, a greeting at the tip of her tongue, but she's met with the usual crowd of people that litter the market.

A glint of unease flashes in her eyes. It's rude of him to just disappear without a word after mentioning a criminal ring threatening the crown, and part of her hopes this doesn't mean his job watching over her is finished.

As she walks through the market, she rubs her palms and blows between them. Without him there, she can finally do what Mother asked, even if the task leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

But at least she can do as she pleases without his withering glares, his judgment, his frowns, his sarcasm, his wit, his curiosity, his–

Moon yelps as she bumps into someone _again_.

Rubbing her nose, she shakes herself out of the daze, and apologizes, "Sorry, I was a little distracted and…"

Moon's throat goes dry. She grips her shawl tighter to her chest as her heart gallops in her chest.

The man before her adjusts his hood with a troubled smile, fidgeting with the soft fabric. "My, I was hoping we would meet someday, but not in these circumstances."

His voice confirms his identity, and it's like her sour mood has been lifted. Her eyes gleam in glee and she opens her mouth to greet him, yet Ilima anticipates this and covers her mouth gently, pressing a finger on his lips.

"Please, make sure to keep my presence a secret. This disguise was a hassle to sneak out with, as I have come without any of my bodyguards today." He says the word _bodyguard_ very, very quietly. "But I'm truly happy to see you."

If the prince is here, then… Moon looks around despite his statement. "So... Gladion is not with you?"

"I'm afraid not. He has been called into a meeting with my uncle Lord Faba, so he couldn't come with me today." The prince puts a hand in his hair, much like Moon has seen Gladion do. "My other bodyguards do not like it when I take a walk outside the castle, so... can I trust you to keep my little secret?"

Moon giggles at the complicit smile he gives her. She puts a finger on her lips. "Surely, though I hope I'm no hassle for you."

"Absolutely not. I would like your company– I am a little lost. And when I saw the cinders on your face, I knew I was in luck for a good guide."

Oh. So that's what he wants from her.

She knows she's not _friends_ with the prince – it looks like she's friends with nobody, these days –, and she has no right to get hopeful, but is she not allowed to long for a glimmer of further attention?

Ilima looks at his hand for a split second and wipes it on his cloak. Her hands tighten around her basket, and she nods. "Where is it you're headed today?"

Ilima takes out a small list with a placid smile, reading it one last time before handing it to her. "This is ridiculous, but believe it or not, I don't know much about cooking."

Moon assumed that much. He probably has chefs at the palace, so that's to be expected. "I wouldn't have guessed," she jokes, smiling.

Ilima grins as well. "Yes, and I was hoping to have a look at the local cuisine and try something in the kitchen. Mother and Father insist they would rather not see me near knives, but what is a knife to a man with a sword?"

"Well, I suppose a knife is like a very small sword, in a way."

Ilima laughs. It's a beautiful noise, and she relishes in it. "I wish my family would see it that way. If you would lead the way, please?"

They walk alongside one another. Being in the company of the prince, she's a little more self-aware than usual, but she tries to shove that feeling down. Everything is a little less tense than the first time they met, as though the lack of bodyguards and crowns make him a lighter man.

Sometimes, however, she sees the beautiful tone of his hair, the sparkling handle of his sword on his hip, and feels the divide broaden.

He's royalty, something she cannot put her hands on.

Her family is wealthy. They're rolling with money. The Berlitz Family has always been old money, but Moon is just _no_ money.

Ilima offers her a radiant smile, and her heart skips a beat. "I suppose you have heard of the dance I will be holding in the castle, haven't you?"

Moon nods enthusiastically. "I have! I… I actually thought I could attend, as well."

He seems confused for a split second, eyeing her with a frown. "I thought you… ah, nevermind. I wasn't aware you came from a noble lineage. It certainly is odd to see someone of a rich family do such mundane tasks."

She giggles nervously, a little taken aback by that comment. "I like looking after my family, you see. I might need time to find a dress befitting of the event, though."

"Well, I would love to see you there. Seeing as you come from a wealthy family, I suppose you could get a nice dress. Besides, I am certain someone as graceful as you would have a handful of men looking for your company." He eyes her hands, her stained cheeks. "I do expect you to come with no ashes, though."

She barely hears the last comment as she dives into her imagination once more: she sees herself dancing in a marble dance room with him, wearing the half-done glittery silver dress she has tucked in a corner of her room. He would whisper about her beauty, he would smile at her with the kindness of the sun and the benevolence only a man like him can show.

There is just one problem, though: and that's everything else in the plan.

"I don't have much idea about dancing, sadly. If I were to dance with y– _someone_ , I might step on their toes." A possibility comes to mind, something that makes her blush. "Would... _you_ dance with me?"

Ilima laughs, nodding curtly. "I owe you for your dutiful guidance today– ah, and it seems as though we have arrived at my destination."

Moon looks up. She knows this place very well, yet she hasn't been watching where she was going. She might have even led them through a longer path without noticing, which would be shameful. How clumsy could she be to get caught up with a conversation like this?

Her insecurities are cut short, however, when Ilima bows his head politely in front of her. Moon does a half-hearted curtsy, smiling.

"I had a good time talking to you. I would love to see you in a gown." His smile lingers, but when his eyes travel to her hands, wrapped around her wicker basket's handle, it dims a little. "I would like to kiss your hand, but I suppose touching vegetables would be a little rude if my hands are dirty."

She can feel the dusty ash clinging to her fingertips and palms like sand. Shame sinks even further down her belly, coiling. "It– It was my pleasure to lead you here. I hope to see you at the dance."

Ilima nods. "Have a good day. I hope our encounter remains a secret."

Moon waves with a lovestruck smile and walks away with a giddy jump to her step.

She thinks of how fun and wild it would be to dance with the prince, to feel like a princess for a night, to feel treated like one of those fairytale girls that fall for the prince and ride a carriage into the sunset with the man of their dreams.

She must finish her dress as soon as possible.

Inside the shop, she quickly approaches the aisle with the herbs Agatha had asked of her and looks at them with indecision. If she hesitates, Mother will be angry again– but how can she not hesitate when the prince could be in danger?

Moon gulps. With a swift motion, she grabs the herbs as quickly as possible. She can't hesitate if she doesn't have to think, and when she's out of the shop with the herbs in hand, she tucks them to the bottom of her basket, still unsure.

As she walks away, a familiar feeling at the back of her neck creeps up her spine– but it's cold. Vigilant. _Threatening_.

Somebody is watching her.

She twirls, expecting to see Gladion– and she's only met with more faces, but none of which she knows or longs for.

Must have been her imagination.

* * *

A few nights later, after hours of exhaustion, sleepless nights, and a few pricks from a few needles, Moon holds up her newest creation: her dancing dress.

It's a little clumsy on some parts and it's insultingly simple, and it'd look awful to a trained professional. It's made of layers of satin and lace, with an overzealous layer of silk that swishes from side to side. A necklace made of fake pearls lies on top, and with a final colossal bow that she ties at the back, the dress is complete.

With shaky hands, Moon picks up the garment and holds it in front of her. A smile of pure glee graces her visage. She twirls with a giggle, fakes a curtsy, mouths her greetings to the prince, and dances with the air, almost tripping with her scissors.

She sees the night unfold under her eyelids already: her in a silver dress, looking at him in the eyes, dreamily leaning against his chest, feeling the nice cotton of his suit, confessing her love to him, kissing him at the stroke of midnight, marrying him, dancing again, and being a princess with her dearly beloved–

"Moon! What is _that_!?"

With a horrified gasp, she turns to the door. Agatha stands there, gawking at the fabrics decorating the floor, her face _livid_ at the sight of Moon's silver dress.

She clutches it defensively like a kitten defending its toy. "I– I– this is not what it looks like, Mother, I can explain!"

"I am tired of your excuses, child! That is _not_ any of our dresses– it would barely fit Sabrina, with how thin you are, let alone _me_! You have been wasting your time in dumb endeavors like that, haven't you?" Agatha grows angrier and angrier as she looks around herself. "This is a disaster, and that dress– oh, _that dress_! That is _not_ our dress! You finished that sham before finishing ours?"

"I– I just got excited and–"

"So you are distracted again!"

"I'm not, this is just–"

She bangs her walking stick on the floor. "Enough! Enough with the lies and the excuses, you disobedient child! Explain yourself: what is that dress for?"

Taking a step back, she clutches the dress more roughly, even when she feels she's wrinkling the delicate fabric.

"I– I was… thinking about going to the royal dance, and I knew I needed a dress, so I– I designed this and I have been working on it very–"

"What is this I hear!? You already know how dangerous that place is, child! We have already warned you about the dangers of the outside world and _that_ place in particular, and you simply never listen to your poor mother!" Agatha lets out a noise akin to a growl. "Do you enjoy wasting my time, Moon?"

"No, I don't, I promise!"

Tears gather under her eyelids as Agatha kicks the materials on the ground, glaring at Moon with vibrating intensity. Behind her, Sabrina rushes up the stairs. "So _that_ is what the ruckus was about! Cinderwretch is acting silly again, I see."

"I am afraid she has let herself be carried away by her little fantasies again. She will never tire of disappointing us."

Sabrina sidesteps around Agatha and inspects the dress with disdain. "Ugh, that rag is disgusting. And she's the one making our gowns? She can't even do a thing right for herself!"

"That's not true! Please!"

In a flash, Agatha snatches the dress from Moon and looks at it for a second. Moon tries to get it back, but Sabrina grabs her arm and pulls her back.

Agatha looks at the garment with palpable ire. "Look at yourself, Moon– losing your composure for a rag you will never wear! We warned you about how dangerous it is, how you do not belong there. You _know_ where your priorities are, what your duties are, yet you keep disappointing us over and over!"

"I didn't mean to disappoint you, Mother! I just–" A sob interrupts her, and her body rocks in frustration. In sadness. In building exhaustion. "I just wanted to enjoy the night, Mother! I will still finish my duties, I promise I won't disappoint you! I just wanted to go to the dance, meet new people, have fun for one night! There will be guards around the palace, it will be safe!"

Agatha snarls. "And now you are trying to fight my teachings! You think you are suddenly smarter than I am!"

"No! I would never, Mother. Please, I would _never_ do that!" Sabrina holds her tight, but Moon just wants to sink to the floor and cry. "All I want is to make my dreams come true, Mother. Everyone has a dream, and I have the right to also have dreams of my own! You need to understand, Mother! _Please_!"

"Tch." Sabrina lets go of Moon and shoves her to the ground. "Look at you, Cinderwretch. Defending your fantasies like some toddler, throwing a fit at her mother. Do you not tire of making us sad?"

Moon tries to fight back, unable to stand up. Agatha walks closer, holding the dress before her. Moon wants to grab it, but she's paralyzed. She can't find the strength to move anymore.

A fearsome shadow enshrouds Agatha's eyes. "We warned you about this, child, but it is clear you never bothered listening to your family, those you are supposed to care for. All you care about now is parties, about fancy dresses, and you no longer care about the family you promised to take care of."

"That's not true," Moon sobs with a shaky voice and wide, lost eyes. Sabrina sneers, and Agatha sighs heavily. "I love you, I love you, _I love you_! Please, do not take this away from me. Please. _Please_!"

"You are not the Moon we love. You are not _our_ Moon. You have changed into a heartless child with no love for your family." Agatha makes the dress sway in a threat. "And I know what caused this– I know you have been seeing some _boy_ that must have been brainwashing you. Do you not see this, Moon?"

Gladion. They're talking about– "He hasn't done anything to me!"

"He has filled your head with silly illusions and phantoms, child, but this ends _now_. All of this." Agatha shakes her head in dismay. "Your father would be so, _so_ disappointed to see you this way. You are a disappointment– but we will fix all of this, and we will become the family we once were."

And with that, Agatha grabs the shoulders of the dress and cleanly rips through it– and that's when Moon's heart runs out of blood and empties itself, stilling as she watches the show with wide, blank eyes. Sabrina grabs the other half and tears it to pieces, making them rain in front of Moon.

With shaky hands, Moon slides her hands into the pile of torn fabrics, as though she will dig out the dress and this is just a sick nightmare.

This is how her dream dies. To the rhythm of torn dresses and desperate, wheezy sobs.

She wails into her hands as she kneels over her torn dress, the fake pearls rolling scattered around the now too dark room. It feels like all light has been sucked out and all that remains is a poor girl with nothing but a broken heart.

After a moment, Moon feels Agatha kneel next to her. A soothing pat on her head that would bring joy to her, but now means oh, _so_ little.

"I am sorry things had to end this way, child, but that boy…" she shakes her head in disapproval. "He has filled your little innocent mind with fantasies and silly dreams. He is trying to trick you, Moon. Men outside this house like to play tricks on girls like you. This world is too cruel for a pure angel like you, my child."

Sabrina says nothing. Moon's sobs quiet down, and Agatha nods in satisfaction, softly patting her head.

"Alas, no man in their right mind would enjoy playing with a girl coated in cinders. They do not understand you– but we will always love you, child. Cinders or not, you will always be ours."

Those words would have calmed her down once.

But it only hurts her more.

Agatha stands up. Moon keeps on looking at the pile of shreds, unmoving. The mother nods at Sabrina and takes the candle that lights up Moon's room.

She blows it off gently. "Sleep well, child. Do not stay seated for too long, or else your legs might be sore."

Sabrina shakes her head, following Agatha out of the room. "Did you think you could go to the dance and snatch the prince? He would never fall for a Cinderwretch like you. The sooner you get over it, the better for everyone."

They exit slowly, leaving Moon alone in the shadows.

The moonlight filters through the room, giving Moon a lost, distant sense of peace she can't settle with right now. She's still trembling with frustration, with sadness, with pain.

Her dreams have been torn apart in front of her, and she can't move anymore.

This… this is _not_ right, she realizes. She isn't hurting anybody. The dance might be dangerous, yes, but… is she going to stay in this tower forever, waiting for a prince to swing into her window and save her from drowning in the broken bits of her fantasies?

She knows the answer. No.

She needs to find out if the world truly is as dangerous as it seems– and if it tortures her, slaps her, or kills her, she will at least know what it is to be _alive_ for once.

On shaky limbs, Moon stands up, walking over the torn shreds of her dancing dress. Perhaps they're protecting her, and perhaps they love her– but she can't keep swallowing this like water, and pretending some thirst that never existed has been quenched.

So Moon looks at the window. She opens it wide and looks down. Marvelous vines crawl up the spine of the tower. They're the only way out of here for the night.

Moon knows where to go, and bites her lip as she tries the strength of the vines. She's shaking all over. She's tempted to listen to her mother, to Sabrina, to _everyone_ but herself.

Breathe in. Breathe out,

She swings herself off the windowsill and slowly makes her way down the starlit vines. The night welcomes her in kindly, letting her steps go unheard as she slowly falls through leaves and the warm air. Her feet touch a lukewarm puddle at the bottom, and she takes off into the night.

In due time, she reaches a familiar park filled with magnolia trees.

A greenhouse comes into view– and the lights are on.

Moon knocks on the door desperately. A curse rings from within, and sure enough, Gladion opens the door; his eyes widen like saucers, exiting the greenhouse before she can step in. "Moon, what is it? You're shaking, what happened?"

Is she shaking really? Moon looks at her hands. Oh. She is.

She nods, more to herself than him, pursing her lips, then playing with her dress, then realizing what she's done, what she's doing right now, visiting the man her mother so very much disapproves of–

"Um, y-yeah, I'm here, uh," she gulps. She's tempted to tear her dress a little, to see what it felt like for Agatha earlier. "I– you– Mother, she– _my dress_ –"

"Okay," he lets out, shocked beyond eloquence. He gently loops an arm around her lower back, pulling her into the greenhouse. "You're not making any sense. Sit down. I have tea with me. Do you want some?"

She nods weakly. He makes her sit on a surprisingly comfortable bench with a pair of pillows, settling her like a teapot on a china plate. He turns away to pour tea from a pretty cantine on the desk.

The greenhouse smells like soil and freshly cut grass, which Moon never knew could be encapsulated this neatly. Plants hang from the ceiling and dot every corner of the place, and there's a little desk at the back with drawings, annotations, and a glass of water.

Gladion comes back and sits down beside her, keeping a safe distance. Moon focuses on looking into the mug he gives her. It smells fruity and nice– nothing she would have expected from him.

Moon can only hear her own demon-whispered thoughts in her head, and she only notices the silence when he coughs and breaks it. Gladion is looking straight at the ground. "Um, I don't know what happened, but I guess I can listen. If you want me to, that is."

She lowers the mug to her lap. She traces the rim of it with thoughtful intent, and then looks at the glass ceiling of the greenhouse. Through the dust and muck, she can see the faintest gleam of stars.

"You once told me," she begins, "that everyone has the right to have a dream. Were you trying to trick me, fool me, or lie to me?"

Gladion gapes at her– but when he sees she's serious, he frowns. "No, of course not."

"Someone I hold dear just told me you did," she says softly, numbly. "I don't know what to believe anymore. She told me I deserved better, and that having dreams is dumb, but why does it hurt so much when I'm sure she's doing it out of love?"

It takes him some time to answer. He looks at her like he's looking for the answers in her. "She's right– you deserve better than to be told you don't deserve to have dreams. Is this why you're here?"

"I– I wanted to see you," she stammers. Moon knows he's looking at her, but she looks elsewhere. "I thought for some reason that you could… that you could keep me company for a bit. I thought of you when I ran away. And I wanted nothing more than to be with you. Does that make sense?"

Silence, again. Moon drinks from her mug, tempted to seek answers in his eyes– but he doesn't give her time.

"Yes, it does." Moon turns to him, and is surprised to find him looking at her, intensely so. "I understand the feeling."

Moon swears she sees the sliver of a smile, and she turns away as her heart does a little summersault at the image.

She refuses to wonder what her heart wants, so she focuses on the present situation instead.

"I think Mother is… unfair, sometimes, but I know Father would have never approved of me disagreeing with her so much. Things used to be so, _so_ much easier before. She was never wrong about anything– or maybe I just didn't need to disagree." She stares at her reflection in the burgundy tea. She's… so sad. So tired. "But things look wrong lately. And I don't understand why I feel this way."

She turns her eyes to him and finds him staring at her. Moon would be foolish to assume it's his typical dutiful watch; there's something more in there that makes it easier to talk. He makes breathing easier. She feels at peace here, with him.

Maybe it's the peaceful weeks they have spent together, arguing and disagreeing and coming back together again.

She breathes in.

"I used to think I could rely on Mother for everything. That I could just… rely all of me on her. It was easier that way, but I don't know what to believe in anymore if all I can do is live without dreams."

"Well, maybe the one you need to believe in is yourself."

Blinking away the forlorn mist, Moon looks up. Gladion has stood up and is pouring himself some tea. His frame looks broader from this light, wearing a light shirt and trousers. He doesn't look like a guard anymore– but rather, a person. A friend.

She plays with her fingers, distraught. He might be her friend, but… Words are hard to swallow when reality is staring at her in the face.

He turns sharply, suddenly. "Tell me, what are your dreams?"

Moon smiles softly, drumming her nails on the china cup. "You will call me cheesy."

"I have been with you for a while now. Nothing will surprise me anymore."

"... I would like to marry the prince, someday–"

" _Of course_."

"– and I would like to become a princess, dance with him, have a happy life." Moon rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. "I know nobody like me would aspire to marry a prince or… anyone, really, but I liked to entertain the idea of at least dancing with him. And… maybe after that, I could have seen where it all went."

A spark of irritation flickers in his eyes.

But, "I see… you want to go to the dance, in the end."

Moon stands up as he leans against the counter, drinking from his tea. He nearly chokes when she fakes a curtsy to him. "Well, maybe I can't go to the dance anymore as I wished, but… maybe that's okay, right?"

Gladion's eyebrows knit. "You don't look very okay about it."

Deep down, Moon knows she isn't, but she forces a smile at him. "At least I will save some poor man from having his feet squashed by me. I don't know how to dance."

He arches an eyebrow. "One would think someone from the Berlitz House would know how to do something like that."

"As you have mentioned, I'm clumsy. I might be a lost cause. Maybe I'm not cut out for dancing." His comment brings something to mind– so rapid and stellar she nearly knocks off his cup when she approaches him and grabs his hands. "Do _you_ know how to dance?"

All he can come up with is an insult. "God, you're so annoying."

"That's not what I asked."

Gladion sighs. "My mother taught me when I was a kid, why?"

"You can teach me!" Her fingers tighten around his hands. They are chilly to the touch. "I know we have little time, but– but maybe I'm a better learner than I think! I'm sure I will not make a fool out of myself in front of the prince if you help me out."

He's quiet for a bit, looking at her with incredulous eyes. Then, he wrangles his hands out of her grasp, places his cup on the desk, and sighs. She's nearly disappointed. "I do know how to dance, but I'm not teacher material. And I don't really want to be a teacher, anyway."

"Not even for me?"

"I see you still have a very lacking sense of self-preservation."

"Oh, it can't be that bad!" Moon gently tugs him to the center of the greenhouse. He doesn't move away from her, watching in amusement as she looks for a music source. "I suppose we do not have a live orchestra to play dancing music, though."

Moon is unsure of what she'll do without an _actual_ music source, but Gladion is quick to rescue her. "The owner keeps an old gramophone there– but it's _very_ old. Probably to play for the plants or something. And I only have one record."

Gladion marches to a corner of the room and shoves a few bags away, revealing the crooked cornet of a gramophone. At its feet lies a small folder, from which Gladion takes out a little cylinder.

Soft music begins to fill the otherwise silent air. She is entranced. It begins cracky and ragged, but it eases itself into a peaceful melody that Gladion is humming to.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he whispers, slanting his hand on her waist. Moon jolts at the touch. He takes her other hand into his gingerly– the contact is barely there. "I will move you along. Focus on that."

His teachings are brief and begrudgingly explained, but he's an admittedly nice dancer. He's scowling all the time and won't gaze into her eyes as lovingly as Ilima would in her dreams, but this – dancing with him in a quiet place where she can dream, she can hope – is enough.

A bit into the record, and Moon has something to ask.

"What dreams do you have, Gladion?"

His frown softens in surprise. "I believe I told you about that."

"Tell me more, then," she pleads, softly so. "Tell me more about your father, your mother. Your siblings, if you have any."

Moon waits it out. She focuses on the instruments at the back, slowly sinking into an uncertain future where she would be dancing with a prince– or just in her bedroom, alone.

"I have a sister," he says with a fond voice, fonder than she's ever heard him speak. "And a mother. My mother is… ill. She's been ill for a long time, and all the money I make goes to finding a good doctor for her."

Moon's heart falls through her stomach and shatters. She knows what it is like to watch someone you love fade away little by little, strapped to a bed with no chains.

"I… I'm so sorry to hear that."

He nods. They keep on dancing. "I came to this town looking for a cure, but I stayed for the money. I'm no doctor, but I like feeling like I'm making some progress, as frustrating as it is to know I'm not doing much."

"Your sister and mother must be thankful for your money," Moon assures him with a smile. "You're working hard for them, after all."

"Working hard won't cure my mother's disease," Gladion bites in, although it sounds more like a lash on his back than on hers. "I sometimes wonder why I'm here and not there. The next time I go home, she might be no more."

This is her time to be silent, quietly admiring him. Under the gentle candlelight and starlight, he looks so harsh and sharp, so scared, but so gentle to the touch. Gladion's hair gleams like gold and his emerald eyes glare down at her with uncanny intensity, the kind that makes the hairs at the back of her neck stand up.

He's beautiful. Stubborn. Broody. Prone to anger. Supportive. Kind, when he allows himself to be so.

She doesn't know how long they spend dancing, softly murmuring nothings to each other– be it quips, be it words of support, be it half-baked arguments that go nowhere, or Gladion's comments on how she will crush his feet if she doesn't watch out.

Gladion notices that she's gripping his shoulder a little too tight, too. "Loosen up a little. You might bruise my shoulder after crushing my feet."

An attempt at a joke that makes her giggle and loosen up; Moon doesn't step on him, and he doesn't push her away.

At one point, he ceases looking at her, and instead directs his eyes to the night sky beyond the glass greenhouse. "One day," he says in a whisper, "I will leave this town and travel the world to find a cure for my mother. A cure that will save her. Then we can put my family back to what it used to be."

Her heart seizes in her chest at the sincerity in his words, so much so she doesn't know what to say. Speaking would mean barging into an oddly intimate thought he's put a lot of care into. Moon doesn't want to do that. Not to him.

Never to him.

"For someone as talkative as you, you're staying silent for a long, long time," he mumbles, startling Moon into attention. Gladion shakes his head. "Did you zone out again?"

"N-No, I was just… thinking."

"What about?"

There's only one word to describe it.

"Everything. Just… everything."

Understanding, he gives her hand a careful squeeze. Moon lets herself enjoy the tighter grip until she notices that her hands are dirty– she had been cleaning the chimney before going to her room earlier.

Moon remembers Ilima commenting on her hand's ash, his eyes full of charm, of curiosity, of… pity.

"Do you not mind my hands being stained with cinders?"

Gladion frowns– not in anger, but confusion.

"I don't care. I can wash my hands later. And like you said a while back, you– you wouldn't be the same without the cinders." Gladion appears conflicted for a moment. He shakes his head. "No– you're you with or without the cinders. I don't mind them at all."

Nobody has ever told her anything like that before; she's caught.

"And…" Moon gulps, gazing deep into his verdant irises. "Do you not find me unsightly with my face smeared in ashes?"

There's no hesitation this time.

"No." A gulp. A sigh. "No, I don't. I don't find you unsightly at all with or without the cinders. Quite the opposite, even."

The record comes to a pause, and they stop dancing at once. His hands drop to her back, and hers on his chest, looking deep into each other's eyes. She feels safe under that gentle light, under the wary and careful gaze of a man that has been calling her names, insults, and horrible things since the very beginning.

But he isn't anymore– in fact, he hasn't in a long time. Not seriously.

To hear that a man like Gladion, so confoundingly gentle in private, so rash, so infuriating, so… so wonderful, finds her _not_ unsightly is what's splitting her world into halves.

Moon notices how his body is pressed against hers. The curl of his hands under her back. The low fire in his eyes, the tickle of her stomach, how she's aching to pull him a little closer, relish in the warmth of that flame– she bites her lip, and his eyes track the motion keenly.

They linger in the moment.

Moon sucks in a thin breath, letting her eyes trail down to his nose, his lips, so soft, so inviting, so–

 _Oh_.

This is a problem.

She gasps as she withdraws from him, scrambling away from his embrace like struck by lightning. She falls to the ground, tripping with her wobbly legs.

Gladion looks at her with equal amounts of perplexion. Moon stares back, half horrified, half surprised at what she allowed herself to look into. Just a peek of something, a view into what it could be, a vision, a connection–

"I– I have to go!" Moon squeals, bolting out the door of the greenhouse without a second look in his direction. "S-see you soon!"

As Moon darts into the night and runs for her life, she hopes the night chill will quell the crimson of her cheeks, wash away the lingering feeling of his hands on her, and the haunting wonder of what his lips would have felt like against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /claws against the rug like an angry cat, hVGDBHShhngggggggggggnghHNGNNGNGHHHHHHHHHHHtheFLUFFHFGFGFGGGGGGFHHHHH
> 
> I've seen rollercoasters with less curves than these and this wasn't the angstiest chapter LMAO
> 
> you can have the fluff for free................ or can you??? being mathematical and shit I gave you 1 fluff last chapter, now I gave you 1 angst and now another fluff, so you're one fluff positive......... does that make me a giving author???? or does that mean I have something worse in store??? you decide! :D
> 
> This was BY FAR MY FAVORITE CHAPTER after a certain chapter that might or might not have certified soul crushing angst AND I ENJOYED WRITING IT A LOT, the dancing scene w Moon and Gladion was an afterthought and MAN didn't afterthoughts save this chapter, LOOK AT THAT DEVELOPMENT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH /hits floor with broom
> 
> “Absolutely not. I would like your company– I am a little lost. And when I saw the cinders on your face, I knew I was in luck for a good guide." - Absolutely fuck off, Your Highness
> 
> “I would like to kiss your hand, but I suppose touching vegetables would be a little rude if my hands are dirty.” - ABSOLUTELY GO DIE ON A DITCH YOUR DOUCHENESS?????????????? (I take pride on how much of a nice jerk I made Ilima, ngl)
> 
> Am I gonna comment on Agatha's scene? :) No :) Why? :) Because :) I do not enjoy remembering how distressed (yet sadistically delighted) I was with this scene :) And it's not even the lightest in the fic, that's the best part :) 
> 
> In this fic we hate Agatha and Sabrina, that's all mgonna say my dudes :))))) and you might wonder if it gets worse, well-
> 
> “No.” A gulp. A sigh. “No, I don’t. I don’t find you unsightly at all with or without the cinders. Quite the opposite, even.” - /BROOM HITTING MULTIPLIES
> 
> "Moon sucks in a thin breath, letting her eyes trail down to his nose, his lips, so soft, so inviting, so– / Oh." - iAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> I'll see you next week, any feedback is appreaciated!
> 
> mdead too much stuff bye
> 
> EDIT: the next chapter will be delayed until next week for personal matters. See you next week!


	5. Chapter 5

"Moon, give me the pearls!"

"Moon, where is my silk shawl?"

"Where did you put my fan? You are too slow!"

Moon rushes from one place to another. Her arms are laden with accessories that Agatha and Sabrina have suddenly found interesting: from feathery hair pieces to fur shawls with pearls; from velvet gloves to extra bows they want on their backs.

Sabrina consistently complains that the luxurious feather on her head is tilted and Agatha says the dress is a little too tight. The younger woman turns from the mirror towards Moon. "One would expect you to be faster, considering you have no dance to get ready for!"

Moon gulps down her desire to respond, but deep down, she has a point.

Agatha laughs at Sabrina's impatience or Moon's graceful misery, she can't tell. "Calm down, child. The carriage has not arrived yet. You would look beautiful even wearing your sister's rags– would you not agree, Moon?"

Moon knows better than to disagree; she nods. "Yes. Sabrina would look beautiful in anything."

Sabrina smiles down at Moon. "I see you are learning to behave! Mother's earful did wonders in you. Look at you, so caring and so quiet."

"It is good to see the Moon we love coming back to us, indeed," Agatha says in a warm, loving tone. She approaches Moon and bends down a little to ruffle her already tousled hair. "These dresses look wonderful, too. What a good child you are."

A burst of joy surges through her at the gesture, but it's outweighed by the stinging hurt of seeing them dressed up and happy, knowing she will be left behind to wait for their return. Agatha has consoled her plenty of times, telling her they will come back with souvenirs from the event; but Moon doesn't care for souvenirs.

All she wants is to dance with the prince, and it's the only thing they won't allow her to do.

Moon finishes a bow at Sabrina's feet. She turns around, and the swish of the dress slaps Moon. "It looks a lot better. My, what would a Cinderwretch like you do without my advice?"

The younger sibling sighs and takes a step back to let Agatha and Sabrina admire themselves in the mirror. The prince would love to dance with Sabrina– he might find her attractive and worth marrying.

He would marry Sabrina instead of Moon, she's sure of that much.

Someone knocks on the door, and Sabrina squeals in excitement as she gathers up the skirts of her dress. Her heels click on the marble floor. "Mother, that must be our carriage."

Agatha smiles. Even with her walking stick, she still makes it look elegant, somehow. "Yes, quite. Say hello to the coachman, my dear. I want to talk to Moon before we leave."

Sabrina obeys her and diligently walks to the front door. Agatha softly taps her walking stick against the floor to call Moon's attention.

"I trust you have cleaned the house, haven't you?"

She bows her head. "Yes, I have."

"Have you taken care of our beautiful garden? Have you watered the apple tree, your father's pumpkins, and Sabrina's roses?"

"I have done that as well, Mother," Moon says softly, sweetly– hollowly. "I have also prepared a few appetizers for you and Sabrina in case you come home and feel hungry. I hope they are of your taste."

Agatha nods proudly. "You have done a good job. Be sure you stay where you belong. Remember to polish the staircase and wipe every inch of our beautiful windows. If we have guests with us tomorrow, we need to keep up the dignity of our family, child."

Moon nods meekly, folding her hands at her front. She never knew about those tasks, and it puts an unprecedented dent in her hopes. "O-Of course, Mother."

"Very well," she plays with her walking stick, the one crowned with gold and a sizeable ruby. "Remember to clean Sabrina's salon shoes, too. Can I rely on you, dear?"

Moon's eyebrows quiver, feeling her heart swell within her chest. The void carved by her sadness is something she can't fill with tasks, and Agatha picks at her unease like a carnivore picking dead flesh, staring at her relentlessly.

Moon gulps." Yes, Mother. I– I suppose there truly is…"

She trails off, and Agatha frowns. "Do not mumble, child. Speak up."

"There truly is no chance for me to go with you, is there?"

Agatha shakes her head in dismay. "Oh, again with your head in the clouds? Do you not see how busy you will be tonight? You promised you had sorted your priorities, did you not?"

"Y-yes, but–"

The mother gently cups her face, lifting it with a sweet smile. "You will be safe here, do not worry. We will tell you everything about our evening tomorrow. Be a good child and do your chores, my dear."

Moon's throat becomes a knot. She forces herself to nod, pursing her lips. Her hands ball into fists, remembering her dance with Gladion, her hopes, her dreams, feeling it crumbling at the tip of her fingertips–

Agatha's eyes harden. "Do you promise to behave?"

With a shiver, Moon nods, bowing her head. Agatha stills at the sight for a quiet moment; she looks satisfied, seeing her dear daughter finally acting like herself.

"Have a good night, Moon. Sleep well, and make sure to stay warm tonight."

The door clicks shut. Agatha walking down the stairs. The faraway sound of the front door shutting close.

Silence.

Moon's throat becomes tight, dry, and it hurts to breathe. Tears prickle her eyes. She becomes small on the floor, curling into herself as to feel something, _anything_ that isn't the hurt of having her dreams broken.

Why did it have to happen this way? Why is it that nobody will allow her to be with the prince, become the princess she's always wanted to be?

Gladion would be so disappointed. He had encouraged her to go to the party, taught her how to dance, how to be brave, and yet… she's been pushed down again.

Maybe, Agatha was right.

Maybe, it's not worth it to have dreams.

Blinking, Moon wipes her tears away. She takes a few minutes to breathe in.

Eventually, she stands up, taking a deep breath, and walks out of the room. The fire in the hearth has gone out, and she adds logs to it to warm the house once more. She lights the candles up once more and begins her chores whilst ignoring the fancy carriages driving by the windows of the mansion.

She cleans the windowpanes and pushes the windows shut until no moonlight can leak in, holding off tears of frustration.

Moon then finds herself in the living room, surrounded by shoes that don't belong to her, sitting on a rug that isn't hers, crying tears that are misplaced. She hums a small lullaby to herself, the one she remembers her mother sung to her when she was a child.

The blurry image of her mother's smile, her father's joy… the shoe clatters on the floor, and she breaks into loud wails, clutching her chest.

How can she make something feel better when there is simply no way out anymore?

A fresh, crisp breeze blows through the curtains. She gasps as the shoes that lay on the floor in disarray suddenly stand upright with a flurry of sparkles.

A flash of warm light blinds her.

Two golden shoes are the first thing she sees, and then, a man with a robe that looks like the sun incarnated, wearing a kind, gentle smile befitting of a star.

"Now, now, a pretty lady like you shouldn't be crying, missy!" He kneels right in front of her as Moon's eyes widen, breathless. "Breaks my heart to see you like this when you got such a beautiful smile!"

He flashes her a grin, offering her a hand, and Moon yelps in sudden awareness. "Who– Who are you? You– you appeared out of nowhere! In this house!"

"The name is Hau, kid!" He grabs her hand, helping her stand up, and swivels around her with the agility of a butterfly. "Been watching you since you were a lil' red-cheeked bean with grabby hands and that button nose! Can't see me, but I'm always watching over you like the godfather I am!"

Moon stares at him, puzzled. "Godfather?"

"Your _fairy_ godfather!"

She gasps quietly. Fairy godfathers are myths, fairytales, even if there were whispers of people spotting them hiding in the woods to the north. They would tuck the good kids into bed and give them presents for their birthdays, yet Moon's never had anything of the sort happen to her.

She's tempted to step back and run away, seeing as this could very well be a hallucination, yet this man's smile fills her with unexplainable warmth– so much so she's tempted to smile, too.

She watches him in awe as he takes a wand out of his sleeve and flicks it: the shoes float upward and, in matched pairs, gracefully hover to Sabrina's room. Moon rushes there and finds the shoes to be standing in their place, perfectly lined up.

When she comes back, the man twirls his wand around the cleaning supplies, which march happily to the staircase as though possessed by a ghost. They clean the railing happily, and all the leftover bubbles from the soap float around the room and pop into charming sparkles. The railing gleams, spotless.

Moon caresses the surface, disbelieving what she's seeing. Could this be a dream? "You– you cleaned this so quickly! How did you do all of this? Did you use some sort of witchery?"

The godfather nods. "Pretty close! I know a little bit of magic here and there, you see! It's my job to make good people like you happy, and trust me; it's _tough_ to stand back and watch those two treat you the way they do! I really wanna give them the benefit of the doubt, but… it was too much."

Moon brings her delicate hands to her chest, confused. "What do you mean?"

Hau shakes his head, visibly upset. "You see, it's not fair that you just stand back when you wanna go to that dance! You deserve to be happy, to go to the dance if you want to, maybe even be the princess you wanna be!"

Moon blushes bright red, looking away. "I–It is a foolish dream, you see, and– and it isn't like I need it _that_ badly."

Hau moves in front of Moon, hands on his hips. "Aw, really? Because you look like you wanna go there and dance with that guy. Do you really wanna stay here, cleaning the house for your entire life?"

It's not fair, Moon thinks, conflicted. How can she say she doesn't want to leave this place for a night and dance it away? What about her duties, about Agatha and Sabrina's reputation if anyone comes to visit tomorrow and find dusty corners in the mansion?

"Y'know, I think I kinda get it," Hau says to no one in particular, looking at the virtually spotless interior. "Duties and all that. But you gotta have fun sometimes, y'know."

Moon's breath hitches. "B-But, the house, Mother–"

Hau swings an arm around her shoulder, rubbing her forearm soothingly. "She's not gonna notice or know it's you, because I'm gonna make _you_ a _dress_!"

Moon's eyes widen considerably. "A _dress_! How would you? I have no materials with me!"

Hau grins and reaches out to grab her cheeks, pushing her face into that of a pufferfish. "Doesn't matter! I know a few tricks here and there, so we're gonna make your prince charming's jaw hit the floor. You deserve it!"

All at once, Hau points his wand to the back of the manor, and Moon hears the garden's door opening with a quiet creak.

With his hands on his hips, he points in that direction with his thumb. "Let's get to work! I'm gonna make you a carriage and some more stuff. We can't keep your prince charming waiting, can we?"

She looks at him, then at the door hastily, not entirely convinced this isn't a dream, that she should be doing this, but...

She bursts into a hopeful smile. "Yes, please! I… I want to go. I truly would _love_ to go!"

"Very well– then I'm gonna need a pumpkin. The biggest one you got!"

She finds a rather large one in her father's corner of the garden, the one she's been very diligently looking after. He used to love gardening so, so much, but it's all now gone to waste; all she has left of him is pumpkins, tulips, and some thyme growing in her bedroom.

Hau steps into her garden and orders her to drop it at his feet, which she does with some difficulty. He inspects the vegetable with a smile, and then waves his hand towards the manor. "Now… you're gonna need horses! And someone to handle them. How old is this manor?"

Moon looks at the walls of the house, thinking. "Perhaps a few decades old, but I can't be too sure."

"You got a basement, right?" She nods. "Then, bring me a few mice. They won't bite your ankles with me around, so just make sure they follow ya' here. I'll handle the horseman for you!"

She does as he requests. When she opens the door to the basement that nobody has visited in years, four mice stand right before her in a line, waiting for her with a strange gleam in their eyes. Feeling overzealous and lighter than air, she airily guides them out of the basement and into the garden.

Upon seeing Hau, they stand on their hind legs in front of the pumpkin and wail at the godfather. An owl is perched on Hau's shoulder, beige, and green with soft feathers and a round beak.

"I see you got a mighty army of friends here!" The little owl flies to the green leaves of the pumpkin, hooting a greeting at Moon. She does a little curtsy, smiling, and Hau eyes the group with a grin. "Alrighty, time to get the show on the road! You should cover your eyes, missy!"

"What do you–"

Hau twirls his wand above the pumpkin, mice, and owl. Sparkles gleam in a blinding light. Moon watches in awe as the pumpkin grows, coated in gold and diamonds and silver, how the roots become sturdy wheels, and the mice transform into nicely groomed horses with a man holding onto the bridles.

She brings a hand to her mouth, shocked. "This–! How did you do this? This carriage is too beautiful, I cannot accept something like this!"

"Shush, you. This is what will take you to your awaiting prince charming: an elegant carriage to blow all those folks away!" Hau turns to her and eyes her with wide eyes. "We gotta give you a dress prettier than the stars, too! Something golden for a heart of gold like yours!"

Moon picks the ragged skirt of her patch-filled dress. "This is all I have, sadly."

"You got nothing to worry about! Watch the designer at work!"

Before she can ask what he means, he touches the sleeve of her dress, and in a puff of sparkles and fresh air, her dress blooms into a beautiful gown. It's made of the softest of golden silks, glittering under the moonlight as though made of stars, with silver bows and diamonds embedded on her chest. Velvet, golden gloves fit snugly around her hands and arms.

With one last touch on her forehead, a thin mask made of fine satin and gold softly falls on her nose, concealing her identity from the unknowing.

Moon incredulously and delicately picks up the wide petticoats of the dress like it's made of glass. "This… this is a gorgeous dress, godfather!"

"Call me Hau, please– and it fits you like a glove. You look like the actual sun, a shining star!" Hau flicks his wand once more. "But you can't go there barefoot, now can you?"

Her worn down flats turn harder, yet more delicate: when she lifts the skirts of the dress, she finds her feet to be encased in two small glass slippers with golden bows on top, the prettiest shoes she has ever seen.

At her bewilderment, Hau grins. "Don't worry, they're not gonna break– unless you purposefully try to, but I know you won't. Whaddya think?"

"It looks beautiful!" she beams, on the verge of crying because of how beautiful she looks, how much of a princess she could be with this. "I have never seen clothes as beautiful as these."

"You gotta be careful with the outfit and the carriage." Hau rolls his neck, looking worn out despite how easy he made the spells look. "The spell will disappear at the stroke of midnight, so you must leave the party before then, or else you'll be left in those dirty, dainty rags of yours. That'd suck, wouldn't it?"

Despite that condition, Moon nods eagerly, unable to contain her joy any longer. She's tempted to wrap Hau in a hug and say thank you over and over, yet her horseman whistles at her and she realizes time is ticking against her.

Hau offers her his arm and walks her to the carriage, helping her through the door and closing it after her with a teasing grin. His eyes widen momentarily. "Oh, shoot! Forgot about something."

He spins his wand and a fine envelope floats into thin air, slipping into the carriage landing on Moon's lap. She flips the envelope, reads the name written in golden ink.

 _Lady of the Sunne_.

Moon looks back at Hau, only to see him walking back. "Good luck, missy! Remember: be courageous and be kind, and remember to be back before midnight. You better tell me the details soon!"

Moon bows her head. "I will, I promise."

Hau indicates the horses to begin their ride, and the carriage speeds steadily into the night.

* * *

The carriage passes through forests, through bridges, through the empty town, and up the hill that gives home to the royal palace. Lights surround the heavenly abode like the stars have turned to watch the event, and when Moon looks out the window, she feels like she's jumped into the realm of fantasies.

Her heart drums in her chest, and it's nearly too much to take, knowing that she might soon meet the prince again, make her dreams come true.

What would Gladion think of her dress? Would he recognize her under the guise of this golden mask? Would the prince recognize her without the cinders?

The carriage stops before the grand stairs leading to the palace. The door swings open magically, and she gracefully drops on the ground, careful to not crack the delicate shoes.

Moon looks up, hesitating. She wonders if, despite this disguise, she might not fit in.

But then, Hau's soft words come to mind.

" _Be courageous, and be kind_."

She slowly ascends the stairs. Careful with her dress. Careful with the shoes. Careful with everything. She gives the invitation to the guard, who welcomes her in with a gaze she's never seen before.

And when she reaches the palace, the dance room and the world come to a soft halt.

"Please, do welcome the Lady of the Sunne!"

The ballroom is decorated with the most expensive lights, like little suns hanging from the marble ceiling. Everything is golden, silver, beautiful, spotless, opulent, and fairy-like. Noble people dot the ballroom, speaking among themselves and dancing the night away to the rhythm of an orchestra playing at the back of the immense ballroom.

And at the center of it all, somebody finds her.

Ilima, the prince she's been dreaming with all along, stops dancing with a faceless woman, looking at Moon in awe. His eyes are so mesmerizing under the lights that she's momentarily speechless. He approaches her eagerly, as if drawn by gravity.

Seeing the prince walk to her, everyone turns to her. The crowd filled with rich nobles stare, as if in shock at her beauty, the grace she bows to the prince with, and the radiance of her smile.

Ilima smiles at her. "Good evening, my lady. I believe we have not met before, have we?"

Well, that was to be expected– but Moon is willing to play along. She giggles, shaking her head gently. "I believe we have not."

The prince tenderly holds her hand. He bows to press a kiss on her covered knuckles. Butterflies break free in her belly, and she can't help but smile.

"I am Prince Ilima, the host of this dance. I could not help but be blown away by the beauty of your appearance and the grace you carry yourself with." His voice is smooth like silk, warm like honey. "Would you grant me a wish, and tell me your name?"

She decides that if she's to pretend to be a princess, she will play pretend all night long.

Moon bows. "I am the Lady of the Sunne, Your Highness, and I come from a foreign land. I noticed the grandiosity of your palace while passing by on my royal carriage, and I was mesmerized by the beauty it holds inside."

Ilima's smile breaks into a thin grin, sweeter than any candy she's ever eaten. "Very well." Letting go of her hand, Ilima bows to her and holds out his hand. "Lady of the Sunne, may I have this dance?"

There are a thousand women in this room, too many of them just as beautiful and graceful as Moon– and yet, he wants to dance with _her_.

She takes his hand without a second thought.

"It would be my honor, Your Highness."

And with that, Moon is caught in the moment.

Classical music, played by a magnificent orchestra, allows her to descend into this dream, into this place in the world where only they exist. Prince Ilima holds her close, firmly, yet with a soft intent she has never seen before, and it captivates her even further. Mindful of her feet, she puts all of Gladion's teachings into practice.

At that sudden thought, she wonders where that bodyguard could be.

They dance around the room, under the eyes of a thousand people, but the only one who matters is the prince, staring down at her like she's his whole world.

"Tell me about yourself, Lady of the Sunne," Ilima comments, twirling her with a mastery only a prince could possess. "Where do you come from? Is it a kingdom I may know?"

Time to put her imagination into practice.

"I come from a faraway land, beyond the sea, the mountains, and my kingdom stretches far beyond what the human eye can see," she murmurs, entranced by how he laughs at her description, hugs her a little tighter; they are like a couple in love. "Would you visit me sometime, Your Highness?"

"For a princess as graceful and beautiful and you, I would do anything you asked me to, my lady."

Their timeless dance carries on for as long as a whole night, maybe a week, maybe an eternity. Moon allows herself to be swept away by the pleasantries of noblemen, lets them compliment her dress and her hair, lets Ilima shower her with sweet words about her noble status, how beautiful she must be under the mask.

He offers her a cup of champagne that she accepts with a perfect smile. "Your taste is sublime, I must say. Matches your beauty and delicacy like a sword fits a man."

...And yet, the more compliments that come from him, the more shine it loses. She loses her focus, looking more often at the clock than she does at her dreamed future husband. She fidgets with her dress, gazes at Ilima in search of entertainment but only gets a beautiful smile and the offer for another endless dance.

It feels like a dream, to be here, to be with _him_ , to dance under the candlelights, and act like she's in love.

So, why isn't she as irremediably in love and lovestruck as the princesses in the fairytales are?

She swallows it all– the trickle of doubt, the caress of truth on her mind, and keeps dancing with a smile.

Eventually, Moon looks behind her. She finds the clock to be ticking towards half-past eleven. A safe hour for her to step away and fade away into the night.

"I wish this could last forever, but alas, I must leave," she tells him. "My home lies far from here, and as much as I would love to carry on dancing with you forever, I cannot stay anymore."

The prince's expression sinks. "Must we part this soon? I can prepare you a bed, a room, and food if you so desire." His hand withdraws from her waist and caresses her cheek with his knuckles, brushing her mask. "And… I would like to see your face, my lady. Something so beautiful can only be hidden for so long."

Moon gingerly shakes her head, gently pushing his hand down, fingers entwined. "Tonight is not the time, Your Highness. I must be on my way."

The prince nods. "Truly a shame, but it would be my pleasure to walk you to your carriage. May I?"

Despite the many other people waiting to dance with him, the prince takes his time with her, holds her hand as they walk outside to where her carriage awaits. Several bodyguards follow him diligently, wearing heavy helmets and threatening swords on their hips.

As they reach her carriage, Ilima bends down again to press a kiss on her velvet hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

"I hope to see you again someday, my lady," Ilima whispers to her, only her, with a smile. "Would you make me the happiest man alive, and come to the next event I shall organize?"

Moon makes a little curtsy, nodding politely. "It would be my pleasure, Your Highness."

His eyes twinkle. "Dancing the night away with you would be a dream come true. I am distraught to see you leave for now, but good things cannot last forever, can they?"

Moon bows as well with a lopsided smile. "I will make sure to attend your next dance. I would love to see you again as well and dance for as long as time will allow us. I wish you a good night, Your Highness."

"Please, feel free to call me by name. After all, I hope we see each other more often from now onward. I wish you a safe trip to your home."

The prince takes a step away from her, albeit watching her from afar with a longing smile. Moon goes a curtsy in farewell, heading to her sparkling carriage; but before long, Ilima is approaching her again, this time with a guard by his side.

"One of my best bodyguards suggested we make sure you exit the premises of this town safely. The night can be dangerous for a woman as beautiful and angelic as you." The helmeted guard stares at her, and Moon gulps. "You will be safe in his watch. Tread carefully, my lady."

The bodyguard wordlessly mounts on the carriage, right beside the horseman, and Moon climbs into the carriage. As she gazes out at the castle, they drive further and further away from the dream that never truly was.

* * *

For how talkative and conversational the prince was tonight, the bodyguard is silent. It's a good thing that the coachman won't talk; the bodyguard isn't questioning anything around him, not even asking why the carriage is so weirdly shaped.

She busies herself calculating how much time she has to make it to the exit of the area before the transformation drops.

However, not too far from her house, the bodyguard suddenly takes the reins from the coachman and leads the carriage far off the beaten track. He leads them into the forest, through dark groves and wildflowers.

Moon nervously fumbles with her hands as the carriage grows further and further away from the road. Has he discovered her farce? Does he know she's just a little peasant?

The carriage stops at a clearing illuminated by the moonlight, surrounded by the silence of the night. With a sigh against the metal helmet, the bodyguard hops to the grass. He opens the door for her, takes off his helmet, and shakes his hair into place as he offers her a hand.

Platinum, green, a frown, stubborn impatience.

 _Gladion_.

Moon places her hand in his. He gently leads her to the grass, curling an arm around her waist. After staring at her for a few seconds, he traces the rims of the mask and gingerly removes it. He sighs in aggravation.

"I should've known it was you, I swear."

Moon giggles; no longer the Lady of the Sunne, just Moon in a fancy dress. "How did you know?"

"The prince wouldn't stop massaging his shoulder whenever you left his side. I'm glad you didn't try to bruise my shoulder just because it was mine." Moon flushes red. Goodness, poor prince. "How did you get that dress? Where did all of this come from?"

Moon giggles again. "Do you believe in magic?"

"Looking at you, I might just start believing tonight." Gladion looks at the mask in vexation, and then at her. "Really, though, how did you get all of this and– god, that dress is flashy as hell."

Blinking, she picks up the obnoxiously abundant petticoats, staring at her dress. "It looks nice, doesn't it? I picked it with as much care as possible, but I'm afraid Mother only has extravagant dresses."

Yes, that's a very good explanation for a not so believable tale he will _never_ believe.

His eyes linger on her. All of her. From the dress to her eyes, lingering in her eyes in search of an explanation for all that has happened today. Gladion's arms are still curled around her, and Moon finds that she doesn't mind it at all.

He closes his eyes in resignation. "You picked the brightest of dresses, if anything."

"You would rather swallow a thousand knives before admitting I look nice, wouldn't you?"

Gladion stares at her in consternation. "You didn't even let me finish. Dress on or not, you're still as annoying as ever, aren't you?"

Moon pouts dramatically, and he chuckles in response. She balls her fists against the plate of his chest armor. "You're insufferable. Prince Ilima sent the most irritating bodyguard he had."

"You're lucky he even sent anyone. He rarely spares his dancing partners a second glance, yet he only looked at you tonight." For some reason, Gladion doesn't look entirely satisfied with this outcome. "So… how did you like the dance? You looked pretty happy."

At the mention of the dance she softly parts from his not-embrace and twirls around the clearing, grinning like a child. She's tempted to collapse on the grass to bask in her happiness.

And yet, Moon is aware that something, just _something_ had been missing.

But she knows better than to downplay how important it is to dance with a man like Ilima, so she grins. "It was great! I felt like a princess out of one of those bedtime stories. It was romantic and… and so nice."

Gladion smirks. "I could tell. Half the room was planning to murder you to get a piece of the prince for themselves."

She grimaces. "Really?"

"I wouldn't have let them, though." He folds his arms, expression unexpectedly tight. "You looked really happy– and you got your wish. You danced with the prince."

Moon nods, staring at him with a smile. "I did."

Neither of them looks entirely happy in the silence that ensues. Moon doesn't know why he's upset, but she knows better than to let him brood like that.

And she can only think of something that will wipe that frown off his face.

She approaches him, gliding majestically in her fake princess walk, and holds her hand up, grinning. "May I have this dance, Gladion?"

Gladion's eyes widen. "You… you want to dance with me?"

"Yes."

He frowns. "In the middle of the forest with _no_ music? That's a very absurd idea."

" _Yes_." She grabs his armored hand. "You taught me how to dance, so I need to thank you somehow, right? I know you don't owe me a dance and the idea is a little silly, but–"

Gladion clasps his hand firmly around hers. His scowl deepens. "No. I don't mind dancing. It just feels a little improper with how you're dressed so well, and I'm only wearing my armor."

Moon giggles into her velveted hand. "Well, I was wearing rags the last time we danced. When have we ever been proper?"

He squares his jaw in defeat and sighs, looping an arm around her waist, and right as they take one step into the dance, Moon sees her carriage melt away into a sea of sparkles.

Gladion stills, awfully quiet. The coachman transforms into an owl that flies to rest on Gladion's discarded helmet. The horses become mice again and scatter into the forest.

And before Gladion's very eyes, Moon's dress starts disappearing in a mirage of lights. He momentarily lets her go, and she screws her eyes shut as the weight of the petticoats disappears until all she has left is her usual dress of rags.

Her glass slippers remain, though, sparkling under the moonlight.

When Gladion's eyes open, he's shocked beyond words. Moon winces, looking at herself with a sigh. His mouth parts, but it takes several tries to get words out. "I… when you asked if I believed in magic, I thought you were joking. Where the _hell_ did this come from?"

Moon bashfully picks the light skirt of her dress, nervous. "Um… it's a rather long story, and I shall explain later, but… I suppose I'm not a beautiful princess anymore, am I?"

Gladion's eyebrows knit, and to her surprise, he grips her waist gently, as though he still wants to dance. "It's just a dress. Why are you so upset?"

"It's not just the dress," Moon complains, biting her lip. "It's, well, everything. I don't look pretty anymore, and I was never a princess, but it was nice to believe that I was, for a while. I'm not truly beautiful anymore, am I?"

For once, Gladion is left to taste the silence. He looks at her intensely, as though he has a thousand words to say but none will make it out. She curls her hands against the plate of his armor, feeling her own shame grow, remembering the empty compliments from the prince tonight, realizing that she has no worth beyond–

Gladion shifts to hold her more firmly, clicking his tongue. "I don't care about that dress. You're still you. And that's all that matters to me."

Her eyes flutter in surprise, and a dull blush appears in her cheeks, much stronger than ever before tonight, but she shrugs it off with a laugh, letting him sway her from side to side as they dance to no music.

It feels like a lost piece she was missing has fallen into place; this feels comfortable, _genuine_ , illuminated by starlight and not by the judging eyes of a thousand people.

She can be whoever she wants to be, here.

For a second, it feels like they're back in the greenhouse and he's in his casual wear… but she still feels the same. Warm. Cherished. No less worthy, no less of a woman.

She places her head on his chest, closing her eyes, and Gladion hugs her tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /slowly lowers the angst axe and buries it, you're WELCOME now I leave to cry
> 
> god this chapter. god that ending. GOD THIS CHAPTER GOD THIS EVERYTHING????
> 
> I love this because 1. Hau (thx Dai for urging me to rewrite his part, everyone say thank you tangerine lady), 2. that dance with Ilima was uneventful but WAS IT, and 3. GLADION AND MOON SOFTLY DANCING UNDER THE MOONLIGHT AS HE SLOWLY TRIES TO TEAR DOWN THE WALLS OF HER INSECURITIES WITH WHISPERED WORDS AND LOVING CARESSES
> 
> wait not loving he doesn't love her don't look at me don't look at him this is a mess please! he only loves his job >:( and maybe her
> 
> anywhomsthowever we are finally halfway through the story! I'm very satisfied with the pacing and the shipping development, I can now say that the latter half of the fic will be the unraveling of the sand caslte that were Ilima and Moon and we can see the mighty, titanium-like resurgence of lona, finally, as God intended, because His Highness is a PIECE OF SHIT who can't see shit beyond looks and /is killed
> 
> "Moon bows. "I am the Lady of the Sunne, Your Highness, and I come from a foreign land. I noticed the grandiosity of your palace while passing by on my royal carriage, and I was mesmerized by the beauty it holds inside." - Moon is such an imposter
> 
> "The carriage stops at a clearing illuminated by the moonlight, surrounded by the silence of the night. With a sigh against the metal helmet, the bodyguard hops to the grass. He opens the door for her, takes off his helmet, and shakes his hair into place as he offers her a hand." - GLADION YOU FUCKING IMPOSTER
> 
> "Gladion shifts to hold her more firmly, clicking his tongue. "I don't care about that dress. You're still you. And that's all that matters to me." / Her eyes flutter in surprise, and a dull blush appears in her cheeks, much stronger than ever before tonight, but she shrugs it off with a laugh, letting him sway her from side to side as they dance to no music." - HNBGFNDHFJDNHNGnngngnnGHHGHGNNNGhhhhhhh /dies of fluff termites
> 
> Again not gonna comment on Agatha. Or Sabrina. Not yet :)
> 
> I'll see you next week! Stay safe! Lots of love! I wonder what next chapter will be???? will it be angst???? will it be fluff???? I don't know, stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

Things have been silent lately in the Berlitz manor. It's not like the house was ever bursting with chatter – unless Sabrina was behind it and it was made to mock Moon one way or another – yet things are oddly quiet and Moon can't help but wonder why.

It might have to do with a possible fiasco at the dance– the dance she remembers fondly. Moon had gotten to dance not only with the prince, but also Gladion. The thought sends her heart in a perpetual soar that has her smiling all day long.

Something that neither Agatha nor Sabrina appreciate, it seems.

Agatha sits at the table, reading a letter with a cup of steaming coffee. At the back, Sabrina is doing her makeup. "You are oddly happy today, Moon. To what do I owe that change of behavior?"

Moon turns to Agatha, holding Sabrina's dress from the dance. "Sorry, Mother. The weather is very pleasant today."

Her smile lingers while Agatha stares at her. Silence and tension are newcomers between them, and Moon isn't sure if she welcomes the change.

Agatha nods, looking out the window behind Moon. "It is indeed a great morning. The end of summer is always particularly bright. What a nuisance." She looks at Moon's pile of laundry, frowning. "Have you washed my dress yet?"

"No, I have not had the time."

The mother sighs. "God knows you would have if you weren't so distracted lately. I can only hope you land on your feet soon, child."

Where in the past Moon would have nodded her head and apologized again, she remains silent now.

The doorbell rings. Sabrina gets up to answer it while Agatha reads her letter.

Within moments, Sabrina runs into the kitchen, holding up a familiar elegant envelope. "Mother, a letter from the royal palace has just arrived!"

Agatha's eyes widen as she gapes at her daughter. "A letter from the _palace_?"

"Yes!" Sabrina slides the envelope across the table and skips around the kitchen. "Maybe the prince did notice us at the dance! I told you he did look at me a few times, Mother!"

Agatha falls silent as she rips the letter open and reads the contents. Moon half-expects something to splash her way; she had attended the gala, albeit under a disguise.

And Agatha has always had a controlling streak to her.

"It seems," she clears her throat, "that Prince Ilima will be organizing another ball."

Sabrina's eyes sparkle. "Really?"

A nod. "It looks like the prince enjoyed himself greatly last time. The whims of that man know no limits." Agatha turns to her daughter, smiling gently. "I am sure Moon will make you the best of dresses. We must make sure you dance with him this time– life only gives us so many chances."

Sabrina squeals. Moon looks at them over her shoulder. Sabrina looks just as excited as Moon herself did, once upon a time, when dancing with Prince Ilima was her life and soul and being a princess for a night was all that mattered.

And yet, now that she has had her dream, all she can say is that she's… satisfied. Glad that it happened. Happy that she was a princess for one night. Overjoyed that she attended the dance and had fun.

She looks back at the night with fondness– after all, she danced with a prince and Gladion. Two men that held her in completely different ways, looked at her differently, spoke different words, and wore distinct looks in their eyes.

When she looks back, it feels like the cadence of her heart has changed, like things have changed– but she can't quite pinpoint what.

She's happy. The prince loved her dress, praised her manners, and complimented her beauty.

But Gladion, however…

" _You're still you. And that's all that matters to me."_

"Child, are you listening?"

Moon yelps as a dress falls to the floor. Agatha sighs, irritated, and Moon smiles apologetically. "Sorry, Mother…"

Her mother pinches the bridge of her nose. "You don't tire of disappointing and irritating me, do you? This is a very important matter for our family, so you better pay close attention."

Moon nods, keeping an attentive eye on Agatha while she continues sorting the clothes on her pile of laundry. "What do you need, Mother?"

"As you surely noticed, the prince has invited us to his next gala, and we will need, yet again, a pair of dresses to mesmerize the crowds. We barely got a glimmer of attention from the royal family last time, and we must make sure that doesn't happen again." Her jaw tenses in agitation. "We will need different dresses, and they need to be the best dresses in the dance, understood?"

Her adamance about the topic makes Moon question her. Is the dance _that_ important? "So… you never got the chance to dance with His Highness?"

Moon feels silly asking that. She knows _very_ well she had him for herself most of the night.

Agatha doesn't find it that funny, though. "No, we did not. The only men Sabrina danced with were silly womanizers with nothing to their name. A night wasted, that is what it all was, and this might be our last chance to meet the prince."

Moon nods politely. "Understood, Mother."

She flashes Moon a narrowed glare. "Needless to say, no distractions will be allowed. Absolutely _none_ of them. No more silly fantasizing, no more daydreaming."

Confusion flickers within her, and Moon talks before she can catch herself. "Mother, I'm sorry for asking, but–"

"What now, Moon? Don't tell me, after all I just said, you want to go to the dance again?"

"N-No." Moon gulps, but stands her ground. "I was simply wondering… why are you so adamant about this dance? Is it worth this much fretting?"

Agatha stands up, picking up her walking stick and toying with it. Moon takes an instinctive step back. "It is not a simple dance, Moon. This is a very important moment for our family, for our future. Are you saying our goals are silly, Moon?"

"Absolutely not!" She yelps, very much at unease with the look Agatha is giving her. "But, um… I would also like to know what is so special about this dance that has you so worried about it."

"My, you've certainly changed your mind from days ago, despite begging to go to that dance just days ago."

Moon's throat closes up at that. "I– I just wish to know, Mother. I also want the best for our family, and I wish to be involved in this matter, too. If possible, that is."

They stare at each other for a long, long time, and for once, Agatha is the first one to give in, sitting on her chair again and turning silent in thought.

Finally, she smiles. "We have great plans for Sabrina. She has a future ahead of herself, sitting on a throne with Prince Ilima. A throne that will make _her_ and us happy."

Moon frowns. "Sabrina? Why Sabrina?"

"Because she is simply the best fit for someone like him. A beautiful young lady with manners, class, intellect, and grace. She will marry the prince, no matter what. No distractions will be allowed." Agatha snickers. "After all, there are few people like my gorgeous daughter. The prince will never reject her hand– even if that little girl snatches him again, that is."

The look of pure hatred in Agatha's eyes makes Moon's stomach clench in fear. She hadn't seen Agatha or Sabrina anywhere in the gala, and it's terrifying to think of what would have happened if she had been found out.

Agatha drinks a sip of her coffee. She stares at the mug with a sour frown. "We are taking far too long. If that brat comes to the dance again... I might have to take matters into my own hands."

"B-Brat? Who are you talking about?"

Agatha's mouth curls in sour disgust, gritting her teeth. Sabrina groans, pinching the bridge of her nose before striding to her bedroom and slamming the door shut. Moon flinches, and Agatha sighs.

"There was this woman that waltzed into the palace like it was hers. Irritatingly polite and small, so much so I could have very well crushed her with a fist alone." Moon gulps. "She was a delicate flower the prince is surely smitten with. But we shall cross that bridge when we get to it."

Moon's throat goes dry. "And… and I assume Sabrina is also angered by this?"

"You are full of questions today."

Moon looks down. "I wish for Sabrina to be happy. I know I was very… insistent about going to the dance, but I also understand why Sabrina might be a better fit." She can't hide the hint of sadness in her voice, fidgeting with her dress.

The mother's eyes crinkle with mirth. "So I see you are finally coming to your senses. What a pleasant thing to hear, child."

Moon's chest swells at that praise, and she nods her head. "I will do my best for you, Mother. After all, Sabrina marrying the man she loves would be most joyous."

Something indescribable flashes across Agatha's eyes, and it freezes Moon for a split second.

"Hm." Her mother places down her mug of coffee, somber. "It surely would be."

But why isn't Agatha as thrilled about the prospect of _love_ as Moon would expect her to?

Agatha looks out the window.

"Go do the laundry, child. The riverside will fill with people soon."

Moon obeys.

* * *

"So your family doesn't know a thing?"

"I wouldn't say they do."

"And you haven't told them about it? I always knew you had an attitude issue deep within you."

Moon giggles at this, unfolding one of Sabrina's coats. Gladion sits down beside her. "Had I told them I sneaked out, Mother would never let me see the end of it. Besides, I suppose this can be our little secret, right?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I guess it can be. Does this mean you'll be sneaking out for the next dance, too?"

She blinks in his direction. "Why would I?"

Gladion rolls his eyes. He looks so nice, washed by sunlight, and for once a bit more relaxed than angry. "You told me you wanted to dance with the prince, right?"

"I have done that already."

His eyes widen. "I assumed you would want to do it again, considering that you have a massive crush on His Highness."

Moon laughs nervously and plunges her hands into the water. "Well, I did have a lot of fun, especially dancing with him and, um, _you_ , too." They trade embarrassed looks, and she smiles at him knowingly. "I see you liked dancing with me too. That's nice to know."

He averts her gaze with a frown, rubbing the back of his neck. "I liked you better when you were shy." Moon giggles at this, and she catches the start of a smile on his lips. "But I know you probably enjoyed His Highness far more– after all, you're in love with him, aren't you?"

A little pause. She thinks of the way he regarded her cinders, how she only looked worthy of his attention when clad in a perfect dress.

Her heart sinks, and when she talks, it's a confused murmur. "I… yes."

Gladion squares his jaw. "Right."

"And don't get me wrong, I could sneak out again, but… I'm doing this for my family. I don't think it's my place to be there anyway." Moon stops washing for a second, sighing. "I'm sorely tempted, though. It's nice to feel… like a princess, for a night."

Gladion keeps his mouth shut as she slowly resumes cleaning.

"I would love to see you there again."

His honesty shocks her. "You would?"

He scowls in irritation. "Don't– Don't make a big deal out of it. The prince had a great night. He would love to see you again. I like to see him happy, and I suppose it's easier to keep track of him if you're wearing that flashy dress." At this, Moon starts to laugh to herself quietly, making him growl. "What?"

"Well, you said _you_ would love to see me there again, so... I suppose you also had a lot of fun with me, did you not?"

The little choked noise he lets out is delightful. "I– I never said that. But you didn't step on my feet, so I guess the dancing was alright."

She pouts, shaking her head. "Will you ever admit to enjoying the time you spend with me? You can be such a jerk sometimes."

Despite his calm disposition, she still feels his burning stare on her. Sometimes, she wonders if he's still suspicious of her like he was a while ago, if he still goes to sleep fearing she will sneak into the palace and kill someone he cares about.

She turns her face to the sun, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. She smiles gently. "If you found the dancing fun," a pause, "then I suppose I have to go to the dance now. You will probably be more at ease if I'm around."

Gladion lies down on the grass, staring at her through narrowed eyes. "You're such an angel, making my job _so_ much easier." She laughs, nearly dropping the coat into the river. "What happened to 'making your family happy'?"

"I suppose I have to go for your sake."

The moment she says it, Moon realizes that _for your sake_ reads more as _to see you again_. Biting her lip, she scrubs the piece of clothing furiously to stave the thought off.

"If that's the case, we might have to dance again– just so I can distract you from doing evil things to the royal family." A complicit smile stretches her lips at his words. "Maybe if you had less bothersome ideas and fantasies, my job would be easier. You're annoying."

But he wouldn't be here with her if she wasn't annoying– so maybe being annoying is the new term for fortunate.

"Less bothersome ideas? What do you mean?"

"If you weren't so head over heels for the prince, my life would be a little easier. God knows how many stalkers I have to watch out for daily." Gladion sighs tiredly. "But you're the most annoying of them all. Don't you have other hobbies? Maybe something else you want to do?"

Moon gives his question some thought, and then smiles.

"I want to see a shooting star."

"What?"

She turns to him with a troubled smile. "You asked what I wanted to do, and that's what I want: I wish to see a shooting star." Moon sighs. "My biological mother used to tell me wishing stars would grant wishes. Perhaps I can make use of one to make my dreams come true."

Before her death, her mother assured Moon she would one day send a shooting star her way so she could be the happiest girl in the world, but so far, nothing of the sort has happened.

No matter how many nights she waited for a shooting star, longingly staring out of the window when she was a child, it never appeared.

"... I see," Gladion says. "Is that all you want? What would you wish for, then?"

Moon giggles into her soapy hand. "My wish won't come true if I tell you."

"You can always ask the star to make the prince fall in love with you." Moon turns to find him frowning at the sky like it spat on him. "That's your dream, right?"

"It certainly is a possibility, but… that feels like cheating. I don't want to cheat my way into anyone's heart," Moon says. Gladion's lips part, and she smiles. "Would you also do that? Ask for the stars to make someone fall for you?"

Gladion's eyes linger on her for a second longer than necessary– and then a sigh escapes him, more tired and defeated than anything she's ever heard from him.

"Sometimes, I wish I could."

* * *

That night, Moon remembers Gladion's words and stares out the window. Everyone else is probably asleep, but she can't find it in her to go to bed yet.

She's tempted to visit Gladion at the greenhouse, but he's probably busy, doing his best for his own family– sometimes, she wishes she could be the same.

Sometimes, Moon feels guilty for chasing after what she wants. She finds herself at a crossroads, wanting so much, but fearing she'd get so little.

And after so long, Moon can only wonder one thing.

" _Is that all you want? What would you wish for, then?"_

Something hits her window just as she's leaving her place behind the windowpane. Curious, Moon turns to the window again and opens it in search of the source of the sound.

To her amazement, she sees a familiar blob of platinum hair climbing up the vines leading to her window. Moon holds her breath, fearing he might fall and crack his skull.

He reaches her windowsill, pulling himself up to kneel on the railing. Moon clutches the front of her shirt and whispers frantically, "Gladion! What on earth are you doing here?"

Framed by the moonlight and gazing at her through the open window, he looks like a heroic prince from a fairytale. Her heart races, and for a moment, she wonders if he's here to whisk her away and take her to a faraway land.

His definition of faraway seems skewed, though; as he points upwards and stretches his free hand to her. "Follow me. And take a blanket, or a shawl, or whatever you have. Something to keep you warm."

Her brow knit in confusion. "Where are you taking me? And, again, what are you doing here?"

His spread hand curls into a fist, and his eyebrows quiver. "You're so annoying, I swear– just follow me. I have something to show you, but I don't want you to catch a nasty cold because of me."

Hesitantly, Moon grabs a blanket from her bed. She notices that he's wearing rather light clothes, and frowns. "Aren't you cold?"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine… just grab something for yourself. I'm not cold at all."

Moon knows it's a lie, a bad one at that, but she lets it slide.

Gladion surprises her again when he grabs her hand and helps her up the sturdy vines until they're on the roof of the tower. Moon nearly falls once, but he quickly stabilizes her with an arm around her waist, leading her to the comfortable plateau across the top.

They settle down and drape the blanket over their shoulders. Moon smells a splash of cologne – oddly floral, soothingly minty – on him that draws her a little closer, huddling for warmth. "So what is this about?"

He messes with his hair. "I, um. You said earlier that you wanted to see a shooting star, right?" Moon nods with a growing smile. "I remembered earlier that there's always a star shower visible from this town at the end of every summer, so I… I thought about you."

Moon's eyes widen and her lips part. He looks so cute when he's embarrassed. "You just _ran_ here? For me?"

"I just–" Gladion coughs and tugs at the collar of his shirt, the one that Moon thinks looks unfairly good on him. "I just thought I owed you one for, um, _I guess_ helping the prince have fun. He's always swarmed by women, so it was good to see him choosing to dance with only one person, for a change."

He keeps stuttering something she can't quite understand, so she just latches onto his arm in gratitude. He tries to shake her off and fails miserably, but he doesn't look displeased.

Judging by the little chuckle he lets out a bit after, he really isn't.

When she looks up at the sky again, she grins. "I didn't know there were star showers here. We've been living here for a few years now, so it's odd I have never seen them."

"It happens once every year. One of the scientists in the palace informed me that one of them may happen tonight." His lips stretch to a thin line. "The sky is clear, so if it does happen, we should see at least one shooting star."

Moon's expression brightens, and she looks at the sky again without letting go of his arm. He relaxes against her, so she allows herself to lean against him, enjoying the view of the starlit sky.

Nothing can be heard, aside from the crickets singing in the grass. In the distance, the palace looms over the town, and moonlight washes over them in a hazy halo.

A breeze blows through her hair. Beside her, Gladion suddenly speaks. "You're very quiet."

"I like it here," Moon mumbles, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Her eyelids droop close – his shoulder is comfy, steady, and very much warm. Warmer than the blanket around them. "I don't think I've ever been here before."

He stares at her, incredulous. "You have never climbed to the roof of your house?"

"Have you?"

He catches her staring. He arches an eyebrow at her, and his lips curl an inch. "Always so curious, aren't you?"

"You're the one who asked first, so you owe me an answer now."

A breathy chuckle. "Well, my family lives in a very small house, though we have a very big mansion somewhere in the east. After Father died, we couldn't bear to be there, so… we moved somewhere more private with, um, a smaller roof I couldn't climb on. A bit more secluded." Gladion sighs, troubled. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you about–"

"Go on," Moon urges. "I want to know more about you."

A grunt escapes him, more of a subdued groan of hesitation– but he pushes through, sighing.

"My mother is– well, _was_ a botanist. My father was one in charge of science investigations at a very prestigious company, but he went missing when I was a kid– and my mother didn't take it well." A shaky sigh. Her palm rubs soothing circles on his back. "So... she wanted to finish his investigations, because she heard about these strange creatures lurking in a forest near our house, and she thought they had taken him away."

"Strange… creatures?" Moon asks.

"Yeah. They looked like beasts out of the legends. They're terrifying, and they only come out once in a millennium, and one of them– it caught my mother, and she's been ill ever since." Moon feels him shake. His frame shrinks. "Lillie and I saw her with one of the beasts, and then… she never woke up. She's been comatose for years, now."

"There are a lot of gifted physicians here," Moon offers, looking at him in concern. "Maybe even I can help to–"

"My parents' private investigations were illegal, and since I hid them from the authorities at the time, that would make me a criminal as well. The moment I tell the situation to a physician, the royal guards will be on our toes. This is the only way I know I can save my mother."

She chews on her lip. "Why… why don't you ask the prince? You have been working for him for a long time, haven't you? Maybe he can grant you a pardon, or– or something, can he not?"

And he shakes his head. "It's not that easy. Nothing is ever that easy."

In the pallor of the moonlight, Gladion no longer looks like the composed, stone-faced swordsman she's grown warm to, but a lonely man with the world on his shoulders– and there's nothing she'd love more than to help him build his life back to happiness.

Moon stands up, shedding the blanket. Her long skirt blows, and Gladion looks alarmed. "Moon, you're going to fall if you don't…"

He trails off as Moon kneels in front of him. She stares at him for a second with the same cold ferocity he wears, and then loops her arms around his neck in a warm embrace.

They sit in an uncertain, silent limbo for a few seconds. Moon doesn't dare move, fearing she's overstepped. "You're not alone anymore," she says quietly, unsure of her authority, unsure of just _so_ many things. "I d-don't know how much you would want me here, but I can be here for you if–"

She squeals a little too loudly as Gladion buries his face in her shoulder and braces her against him, careful so she doesn't roll off the roof of the tower. His body shakes more vigorously than before, and the wetness on her skin doesn't lie.

Moon weaves her fingers into his hair, stroking softly. His hair feels soft, much softer than she had expected. He's warm and strong, but also fickle and irascible like a flickering star of fire. She's known all of his anger, his irritation, his constant insults and his aloofness, and yet…

And still, here she is. Enjoying his warmth, soothing his cries, hugging him like she doesn't want to let go.

Maybe, just maybe, she _doesn't_ want to let go.

When his quiet cries fade, Moon smiles shakily. "You're so annoying, Gladion. Making me think you're a jerk and the most grumpy man in the kingdom, when you are…"

He hugs her tighter and she shuts up. Nobody has ever hugged her like this, so tightly, almost protectively.

When he finally loosens his grip, Moon stays still for a few more seconds before letting go, scooting away and half-getting up before he grabs her wrist and yanks her to where she was just a second ago.

In a swift move, he adjusts the blanket over them both. Her back is pressed against his chest, and he arches over her whilst curling his arms around her in an almost suffocating hug that doesn't feel half as bad as it should.

His proximity, his strong arms, his careful voice, his touch, his warmth… Moon screws her eyes close as a furious blush takes over her face, and she prays he can't see it in the night.

His choppy bangs caress her ear as he leans in to whisper, "Stay here. Please."

_Oh, God._

He's _too close_.

Her cheeks burn, and she purses her lips as her heart threatens to burst. A shudder snakes down her spine, and she tries her best to hide it. "Am I… am I not bothering you?"

"No," he murmurs, sighing. She leans into the steady beat of his heart. "You're warm, and– and I can hug you a little better like this. If that's okay, I mean. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

She shakes her head with a smile, giggling, and snuggles a little closer in response. He's comfortable to lean against, and he's so tall he feels like a second blanket and pillow.

If it weren't for the gentle wisp of the night breeze, she would fall asleep.

Gladion nudges her gently. "Hey. Look up."

When Moon opens her eyes, the sky is full of brilliant comets shooting across the sky, filling it with starlight. They leave paths of light behind them, and Moon swears that if she reaches out, she would feel their heat.

And then, she looks at Gladion. His eyes are fixed on the show above them, distracted with the sight– and she realizes that he's smiling. It's a gentle smile, far from a grin, but his eyes have certain crinkled mirth to them that frame him in a new light.

Her heart seizes. Butterflies explode in her stomach and she suddenly feels very, very light and happy– her eyes widen.

_Oh_.

Oh _no_.

"You know," he says in a soft voice. "I've always wondered why you weren't scared of me the first day we met."

"R-Really?"

"Mhm." The vibration of his voice is the most entrancing noise she's ever heard. "Everyone I point my sword to chickens out and flees, and you're by far the most polite person I've ever met, and yet… you're here. You're… you've always been so brave."

Moon smiles to herself. "God knows I wouldn't be here if I took your words at face value."

She can feel his smile in the little chuckle that follows. He places his chin on the crown of her head. "I guess you're right."

Together, they watch the stars dance through the universe above them, feeling so small but yet so cozy, warm, and safe.

Moon puts her hands together in silent prayer.

" _Don't take him away from me– please, let me try to make him happy, and let me stay by his side... forever._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PARADE OF RED FLAGS INCOMING, STEP ASIDE PLEASE
> 
> You might think this chapter's entire plot came out of nowhere and you'd be right, but it's okay, you got fluff out of it, so
> 
> SWEET POTATO ALMIGHTY I WON'T TALK ABOUT THE ROMANCE????? ABOUT GLADION BEING SO SOFT??????? THAT STARGAZING SCENE??????? CUDDLES????????????????????????????????? I'M ON THE MOTHERFUCKING FLOOR AND I CAN'T WALK ANYMORE, I NEED THEM TO MAKE OUT AND JUST STOP BEING SO CUTE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> Also I feel bad for Gladion, his backstory, his family, his circumstances, the enormous crush he REALLY OBVIOUSLY has on Moon, JUST EVERYTHING, and if you think we won't be going back to it at some point BOY YOU'RE FUCKING WRONG GBHJDMSKL we're only 6 chapters into it and things are very tame, but I have a tendency to slowly carry the cars uphill and then swiftly kick them downhill hoo boy ain't that a view
> 
> anywhoway again not gonna comment on Agatha's bit for reasons ahem ahem
> 
> Moon: *talks about how she's head over heels for the prince, aLleGeDlY  
> Gladion: "Gladion squares his jaw. "Right.""  
> Moon: *does anything*  
> Gladion: Gladion's eyes linger on her for a second longer than necessary– and then a sigh escapes him, more tired and defeated than anything she's ever heard from him.
> 
> I'm just so into how Gladion reacts to anything she does and I might cry about this about 6 hours a day
> 
> also
> 
> it's about the ohs, the oh gods, the oh sweet jesuschrist I love this guy, and the *sneaks out of home to romantically watch stars with the guy I'll soon be in love with*, and if you disagree I guess we're enemies, sorry
> 
> next chapter's gonna be a good one :)


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

**WARNING!**

This chapter contains a scene containing emotional abuse.

If this is something you aren't comfortable with, tread with caution.

* * *

Moon is cleaning when the mailman knocks on the door.

Agatha hurries to open the door, and smiles when she has the letter in her hands. She's opening the envelope before she even reaches her study, closing the door after her and leaving Moon alone to her thoughts.

In a typical household, these would be typical circumstances for a typical person. Yet Moon, who is used to her mother's idiosyncrasies, knowsshe has never seen her smile that widely at anything, let alone a letter.

Could it be that she has a lover? The idea makes her giggle, and the noise alone prompts Agatha to ask, as she exits, "What do you find so funny, child?"

Moon smiles. "I apologize if my laughter disturbed you. I was thinking of something, that is all."

The mother nods and closes the door behind her. Casually, she locks it and tosses the key into one of the drawers in the hallway. "I have an important meeting to attend to. I trust the house will be clean by the time I am back."

Moon bows her head, gripping her broom tight. "Yes, Mother."

Agatha smiles at her daughter, ruffling her hair. "Be good, child. And make sure you close the windows before lunch. It is cold today."

She leaves, and Moon continues with her chores. She sweeps the whole manor clean like she does every day, making sure no corner is left untouched. She even goes out of her way to climb to the roof to wipe down the skylight, taking the chance to lie down for a while and bask in the glorious late summer sunshine, remembering the night she spent there with Gladion.

But when she goes down the stairs, sweating hard, she passes by Agatha's study.

And that's when curiosity tickles her mind, and she takes a hesitant step towards the door. Agatha rarely closes the door unless something important is inside, and knowing her, she would hide something as silly but incriminating as a love letter. She might be out to meet her lover, and despite the many grievances Moon's had with her as of late, she can't help but be happy for her.

Would it be that bad if she had a look? Maybe Agatha would also appreciate it if she cleaned the room.

She looks around, making sure that nobody would see her.

"God, forgive me for being curious," she whispers to the silence.

Moon takes out the key from the drawer and unlocks the door. The study is well ventilated, letting in the crisp morning air from the garden, and to Moon's surprise, it looks like Agatha had cleaned most of the room herself. Strangely, the desk is littered with envelopes and letters.

Biting her lip, Moon picks up one of them. The sender is a man from… the castle?

"Lord Faba the III," Moon reads in a whisper, frowning. She'd swear she's heard that name somewhere– a politician residing in the castle, one of the prince's advisors.

Excitedly, Moon unfolds the letter and starts reading.

Then, the bubble bursts and her body grows heavy with poisonous dread.

_Good morning, Madam Berlitz,_

_I am delighted with the results of the herbs you sent me. As one of the most important people in the palace, I am pleased you are doing the right thing. God knows the simpletons I live with day by day are far more stupid, as they refuse to see the magnitude of the plans you and I share._

_In response to your previous letter, I cannot be sure of the whereabouts of his Highness during the next dance. I am certain he will be greatly entertained with that pesky little princess for a long deal of the night, but I can have that taken care of, if you catch my drift._

_I cannot be certain if I will be able to make the prince have a meeting with your daughter, and I am not sure if rushing the process is a wise idea. However, I trust your motives and I shall try my best. As a trustworthy member of the palace, I must do my best to ensure the future of the kingdom, and your daughter will be a great fit for the future throne._

_I was giving our methodology some thought, and I am unsure if foxglove will provide a formula that is enough to put the prince to rest. Perhaps we should look over the formula in our next meeting._

_My last subject took 2 hours, 16 minutes and 4 seconds to be put to rest, to be precise– and I would wager those results are far from favorable._

_I look forward to seeing you on the date written down below, as well as a response as soon as possible._

_Have a pleasant day,_

_Lord Faba the III_

_Appointed Counselor of his Highness, Prince Ilima of Cardevac._

Moon's heart stills, and the letter falls from her hands. She stifles a scream of horror, and in her attempt to back off the fallen letter, she stumbles against the table. The letters rustle, as though calling Moon's attention, and she grabs a bunch of them with shaky hands.

Small packets, each containing a burgundy powder and marked with the royal seal, clatter to the floor. Moon combs through the letters almost hysterically, reading words of murder, of poison, of spilled blood, of bright futures, of tyranny, of–

_They want to kill the prince._

Moon's chest swells, seizes, writhes, and suddenly she can't breathe.

_They want to kill the prince to seat Sabrina on the throne._

_They want to kill the prince to seat Sabrina and Agatha on the–_

"Child! What in the world are you doing?"

Moon yelps, tripping over a chair and falling to the tiled floor. Agatha stomps towards her, grabbing a bunch of the letters.

Agatha's eyes are dark with furious ire. "You were reading these, were you not? Who gave you permission to do such a horrible thing?"

Moon scuttles away, attempting to rise on wobbly legs. "Mother, I can explain, I was just cleaning, and I saw the letters and–"

She looks at the desk, and then at the crumpled letter on the floor.

"Mo- Mother, those letters, they… is all of it true?"

Agatha stares at Moon.

"What is any of this to you, Moon? Are you incriminating your dear, lovely mother?"

Moon gulps and picks up the letter from the floor. With shaky hands, she offers it to Agatha, who snatches it swiftly. "That letter… it implies you and this man are conspiring against the prince. Is it true, Mother?"

Agatha regards the letter with silent contempt. Suddenly, Moon wants to run away, turning pale as Agatha flicks her eyes to her.

There's unbidden _hate_ in those eyes of hers.

Dropping the letter on the table, she pulls her shoulders back, sliding her arms behind her and tipping her chin up, more akin to a sinister criminal than the mother Moon loved. "So what if it is?"

The world around her tilts. The room suddenly feels too small, and Moon shrinks under Agatha's withering glare. "Mother...? What do you mean?"

Agatha nonchalantly picks up one of the envelopes. "So what if we have big plans? Are you not aware of the absolute filth sitting on the throne right now, child? Are you not aware of the flaws in the world you live in?"

Moon gulps thickly. "B-But, the prince–"

Her mother clicks her tongue, tossing the letter aside. The sound alone makes Moon tense. "The prince is no more than a dimwit, Moon. Our family deserves better. Better than to be looked over by a manchild with no true value to his name." Agatha's expression twists into a scowl. "Tell me, child. What sort of fool were you to fall for such a farce of a man?"

She holds herself straight, taking a deep breath. "He is _not_ a farce, Mother."

"Oh, he is not? What would you call the way he behaves, then? He is no more than a flirtatious fool with good looks and some money under his hand. You should know this by now. After all, you have met him several times, have you not?"

Moon's blood runs cold. Has she been found out? Does Agatha know about her sneaking out to the ball in disguise?

"W-What do you mean?"

Agatha shakes her head. "Lord, did you think we would not notice? I have seen you with him in the market, Moon. Only a fool would not see that man under his flimsy disguises. And not even you are _that_ foolish."

Moon lets herself breathe out, shakily so, knowing she hasn't been found out– but she's still knees deep in trouble. "Then, you should know he is _not_ a bad man, Mother. He– he doesn't deserve this."

"My, is that defiance I hear in your voice?"

"It's not about defiance, it's– it's about doing what's right, and he doesn't deserve any of what you have planned for him!" Moon exclaims, eyes growing teary. "Please, Mother. He is just as good of a man as any other."

Agatha shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That is not what this is about. In a world as cruel as this, morals are the least important of my problems– and yours, too."

Moon squares her jaw. She eyes the letters on the table briefly, and just the reminder of what they said makes her heart thrum. "I'm begging you, Mother. He doesn't deserve this. _Nobody_ does."

Her mother stares at her for a long moment, and Moon almost hopes that Agatha will realize all of this is a mistake– but then, her mother sighs.

She gives her walking stick a thoughtful twirl. "My, since you started seeing that pathetic excuse of a man, you have become a hopeless little girl. What a disgrace."

The accusation in her words doesn't go amiss. Moon frowns. "What do you mean?"

Agatha laughs. It scares Moon even more. "Oh, do not try to hide it. I am the owner of this manor, I know every step you take out and into this household. I know he has visited you, that you have visited him." Moon's eyes widen in horror. Agatha chuckles. "Your father did not educate you to sneak out of the warmth of our home for some hopeless fool, did he?"

"Gladion isn't a fool!" Moon declares, bunching the fabric of her skirt in frustration. "You don't know him at all, not like I do!"

"See? You are even raising your voice at your own Mother."

Moon gasps, cupping her mouth in surprise. Agatha looks disappointed– so much so that her heart sinks. "He is not good for you, dear. Look at you. Look at what he has done to you. All he wants from you is a minute of sick entertainment. He just wants to play with your head."

Her words stoke a flame of doubt in Moon's heart, but she fights it. "That's not true."

Agatha shakes her head. "The proof lies before us. You have never gone out of your way to look through my precious little things, but you did today. We have a horrendous problem on our hands, you see… You could very well spread word of our plans, and that would be troublesome."

Moon's heart throbs. "I won't, Mother, I–"

"You have proved your word to mean nothing, child, and since you will not put an end to this, I suppose I will have to in your stead."

Moon grows pale at the menace hanging from those words.

"W-What do you mean?" she asks, shaking in fear.

Agatha falls silent. She stares at the letters with a sinister glint in her eyes, and a little, meek sob of realization escapes Moon.

"We have big plans for the future of our family, and you cannot interfere. I have humored your antics for long enough. You have crossed a line today, and the trust you have broken cannot be fixed, I am afraid."

"No!" Moon yells, hurrying to her mother, who shoves her aside and starts piling the letters together. "Mother, please, I will do whatever it takes to fix this. Please, _please_ , I promise I will behave."

Silence.

"How much do you wish to fix this?"

Moon hangs her head low.

"I will do _anything_ to fix this, Mother."

Agatha brushes past Moon and looks out the window. Turning, she glances at Moon over her shoulder. Moon can't shake off that her eyes are those not of a mother, but a _murderer_.

"You will not see that man again, Moon. I forbid you to meet Gladion ever again."

Moon's eyes widen in horror. "But– Mother, he is my friend!"

"And the man who took you down the wrong way. He turned you into a selfish, heartless woman who only looks out for herself. You know your father would have never wanted that, Moon."

"I– I know, but–"

Agatha walks close to Moon and tips her head up. "Think of your father, Moon. He wanted you to make us happy, remember? You have always been wise. You know what the right choice is, and it is time you finally learn your lesson." Moon shrinks, but her chin is still forced up by Agatha. "I would suggest you remain quiet unless you want to spend your soon-to-be numbered days in utter solitude where nobody will see you again."

Moon's throat goes dry. "You cannot do that. I'm– I'm your family, Mother. You… you would never do that to me, would you?"

The silence that follows is deadly, so much so that Moon's blood runs cold.

"And all you have to do is be a good girl, do your chores, stay quiet, and behave." Agatha pulls Moon's face a little closer, and peers at her through narrowed eyes. "Unless you would rather spend the rest of your life sewing dresses in a corner of our basement, you will keep your mouth shut."

The more she stares at Agatha, the more she sees this woman as a monster, and not the loving mother she used to know.

The thought of spending the rest of her days in the darkness, alone and crying herself to death makes the corners of her eyes sting. Her heart swells, and her limbs feel like lead.

What would happen to her friends if she's gone, if Agatha fulfills her threats? What if she ends up buried in a dark basement and she never gets to say goodbye to those few she holds dear?

The image of Gladion smiling at her makes her heart sink, because she will never see him again. "This– This isn't fair."

"This life is not fair, my child, but I am only trying to protect you. You will thank me in the future." She speaks with words of terse velour. "I promise that when Sabrina and I rise to the throne we deserve, no harm will come your way. As long as you stay on your best behavior from now on. Just the way it should be."

Agatha leans in and presses a kiss on her forehead, tender and poisonously loving. Then, she grabs the letter she read and tears it to pieces. One by one, she does the same with the rest.

Her mother smiles, but it no longer looks sweet– it's just wrong. "We have a bright future ahead of us. A future where those two men cannot interfere with their silly ideas of dreams and fantasy. You will be safe with us forever, dear."

Just like she did with Moon's dress, she throws the remains of the letters to the floor.

Agatha loves breaking things apart with her bare hands.

"Be a dear and clean that up, Moon." She punctuates her words with a nod. "I might be more lenient if you do it fast."

* * *

A couple of days later, Moon's life has turned into hell.

If she's honest, she's unsure if this is hell when, in reality, this is almost exactly what her life used to be like before meeting Ilima and Gladion. She does all the chores at home and is mocked by Agatha and Sabrina– nothing has changed.

Except she's tasted a glimmer of freedom and happiness that she's now starving for.

She spends her days cleaning under a suffocating watch. Agatha takes over the task of shopping for food and fabrics; after all, they still need new dresses. Without the distractions Gladion posed, work is easy and steady.

There's one problem, though.

Moon misses him, terribly so.

The one time Agatha allows her to leave the house, every step she takes is being watched by her mother. She wears one of Agatha's old dresses. It's far too big, but it hides her well enough. She wears a shawl over her head and a pair of glasses. For once, she makes sure to wash the cinders away, and so far, only Lana has recognized her.

When she asked about the outfit change, Moon could only say one thing.

"I'm changing things a little bit, that is all."

_Things_ could mean a lot, and thankfully, Lana never asks much.

With Agatha right beside her, Moon passes the day walking by her favorite spots: the river bay, Lana's fabric shop – where she struggles to get things off shelves, and nobody is there to help her anymore – the hills with the trees on top, the meadows.

At one point, as if to spite her, they walk by the road that leads to the palace, and Moon stops and stares, thinking of what it could have been.

It feels like the end of an era, coupled with the end of the season; and with every day she sees a fluff of blond hair anywhere, her heart breaks a little more.

While Agatha is elsewhere shopping for meat, Moon walks to Mallow's shop. She hasn't had anything to eat yet, and the smell of Mallow's fresh malasadas is enough to make her stomach howl. "Good morning. I see you have new flavors on sale."

Mallow's grin fills her cheeks in a beautiful sunny expression. "Autumn's got some nice foods and flavors. You like the peach jam ones, right?"

Moon gasps quietly, fiddling with the hem of her shawl. She hadn't expected Mallow to see right through her disguise, and she has to wonder if everyone else can see her just as well-

Her eyes flicker shyly to a nearly empty tray at the end. Two lonely pastries sit at the front, filled with that familiar pinky-orange jam. She remembers the taste very well– extremely sweet, but comforting and uplifting. Gladion alleged he hated it.

"I suppose these are the last peach malasadas for the year, are they not?"

"Mhm! I'm not gonna cook anything out of season! That'd just suck. Do you want one? You look hungry."

Moon nods politely, and while Mallow busies herself looking for a bag for Moon, someone behind her coughs.

"Excuse me."

Her heart stills.

Moon shifts her glasses higher on her nose. Mallow's head pokes from behind the counter. Her round eyes widen as she grins at him. "Good morning, sir! I've seen your face around, haven't I?"

Gladion nods. "Yeah, um… my name is Gladion–"

"Oh, I remember! And I'd never forget a hairstyle like yours!" A giggle. "What can I do for you today? Are you hungry too?"

"I'm afraid not. I– I'm looking for someone." Gladion clears his throat. "You know Moon, right? I haven't seen her in almost a week, and– and I'm trying to find her. Have you seen her anywhere?"

_Oh no_.

Moon's eyes sting, but she wills herself not to cry. She _can't_ cry.

Mallow's eyes turn to Moon in askance, and Moon shakes her head, mouthing a choked _no_. If she does much as talk to Gladion, Moon doesn't know what Agatha will do. She could appear at any moment.

Mallow frowns and turns to Gladion. "Did something happen to her?"

"I don't know." He sounds worried, frustrated, angry, so many things Moon never wished to see in him. "She's usually somewhere around here, but I can't find her _anywhere_ , and… are you sure you haven't seen her?"

The seller turns to Moon once again, but Moon shakes her head once more, this time mouthing a little _please_.

Mallow sighs. "I'll tell her you're looking for her if I see her. Is it that important?"

A pale, rosy blush dusts his cheeks. "It's none of your business. I just– I need to see her. I'm scared something might have happened to her, and I– _she_ – forget it. Have a nice day."

Before Gladion can stalk off, Mallow calls for him, "Wait! Hold on a second!"

Gladion comes back with a frown. "What do you want?"

Mallow smiles despite his gruff words. "Maybe a malasada will do you good! You look a little under the weather, sir. A malasada will put a smile on your face for sure!"

Gladion stands beside Moon. She holds her breath, scared of moving, of fidgeting, of walking away in case he chases after her. She's all too aware of his presence, missing him badly even though he is less than a step away and all she wants to do is hug him and beg him to save her from solitude.

To Moon's surprise, he points at one malasada. "What are these filled with?"

"It's peach jam, sir!"

Silence. Contemplation.

"Give me one of these."

"Ah, it might be a little too sweet for you," Mallow recommends with a troubled smile. "It takes a certain type of sugar tooth to eat these with a straight face. Are you sure?"

"I don't care. Just give it to me."

Moon is tempted to break out of her silence and tell him that he once scolded her for choosing something so disgustingly sweet, but despite his hatred for the flavor, he picks the malasada up delicately, thoughtfully.

He pays for the pastry and takes a small bite.

Moon watches him grimace. " _Ugh_. This is too sweet."

And he leaves, still eating the malasada in his hand. She feels like she just stumbled with something very intimate for him, and she only starts breathing after he's long disappeared into the faceless crowd.

"Moon? What was that?"

Moon hugs her oversized shawl around her, wishing she could just disappear. "He is an old friend of mine."

Mallow's frown sinks. "Why did I have to lie to him? It's ridiculous enough that he never saw you through that dumb disguise, but… why?"

All she can offer is silence. Moon rummages through her bag and offers Mallow the few coins she has left, and the seller hands the pastry to her in absolute silence.

Moon takes it, bows her head, and walks in the opposite direction that Gladion went to search for Agatha, biting into the peach-flavored malasada.

She ignores it when her throat seizes up, when her chest swells, and hides her tears under the shadow of her shawl.

* * *

In the darkness of her bedroom, illuminated by a lone candle that nearly looks blue under the moonlight, Moon is finishing Agatha's dress for the ball. It looks black on her lap, but Moon knows that during a brighter time, it would be blue.

Her back is hunched over the garment, and her cheeks are damp with pale tears; tears she shed for someone that was never hers.

There's chaos around her room, but Moon looks at the dresses and finished garments like the only treasure worth keeping in this room, but with half-hearted strength.

The lock to her room clicks open. Moon almost expects light to stream into her room, but only more darkness pours in.

"Are those the dresses?"

Moon nods.

Agatha hums with a hearable smile. She puts a hand on Moon's head, but where the gesture would have been warm and safe in the past, it's all blue and cold now– and Moon, for the first time in her life, feels nothing.

"Well done, Moon." She takes the clothes away from Moon's hands. "I told you everything would be fine if you stayed put and obeyed me. You are doing the right thing, child."

Moon nods.

"I am sorry things had to be this way, but perhaps if you had been good, things would have been different. Perhaps leaving you to bask in your solace will help you understand."

Moon nods.

The mother gets on her feet, and Moon doesn't move. She doesn't have the strength to stand. "It is time for you to go to sleep. Ah, the moonlight must be a bother. I will pull the curtains for you, my child."

All of a sudden, the moonlight leaves the room, and before Moon can somewhat enjoy the warmth of the candlelight, Agatha's pale fingers smother the candlelight to nothingness.

The door creaks as Agatha opens it. There's a glare on the back of her pale neck, a cold blaze cooling her skin like rain she hasn't tasted in a while.

"The dance will be held in two days. Perhaps it will be good for you to stay here until then, to meditate upon your father's last words. Think about your life, child, about what you have done and what you wish for. Rest well, my child."

Moon nods.

The door closes behind her.

Moon slumps on the floor. She lets it suck out her strength, and her eyelids fall shut. It has been a draining day, and she doesn't feel like moving. It's not exactly comfortable on the dusty, wooden floor, but perhaps that's where she should stay.

After all, she will be here for a while. Why did she try to taste freedom when all it's led to is misery?

Moon never imagined her mother would do something this terrible. Why would Mother want to get rid of a man like the prince? Does Sabrina know this? She likely does.

In the silence of the night, anything is possible.

Moon's eyes water. She is trapped.

Her father… what would her father say, if he was here with her? Would he have done anything about Agatha? It has been so many years, she can no longer hear his voice. He would pet her hair and tell her things would be alright. Her mother would smother her with hugs and promise she would someday stop crying.

And Gladion… he's no longer here, and the more she thinks about it, the more she feels she's no longer here, either.

Everything she ever loved has been taken away from her. What is there to fight for? Can she still fight for herself when death chases her very shadow?

" _Make your family happy, my dear. Keep them afloat the only way you know how. Be good, brave, and pious, my little sunshine."_

But what if she can't do that anymore? What if it simply wasn't worth it? Her mother is a monster, and Sabrina may be in on the plans as well. Her family is a farce. Do they even love her, after all Agatha said to her earlier?

They love her, don't they? But then, why is it so hard to believe so?

She's trapped now. Moon has nowhere to go, nobody to reach out to, nobody to call a friend, a mother, a sister. Everyone is gone.

" _Everyone I point my sword to chickens out and flees, and you're by far the most polite person I've ever met, and yet… you're here."_

She's not there anymore.

" _You're… you've always been so brave."_

But Moon wants to be there. She wants to escape this place, this jail where nobody loves her anymore. She needs to talk to the prince, she needs to warn him about his impending danger, possibly without incriminating her yet. She needs to get up and fight– not only for her friends, but for herself, too.

_Fight_ , she tells herself, _so you can be free again_.

In the darkness, Moon clenches her fist.

Things can't go on like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's better than angst and family troubles?
> 
> that's right
> 
> MURDER
> 
> this is why we need content warnings in our life so we don't cry or get unnecessarily traumatized by a woman with a walking stick
> 
> I recall Dai and I going over and over this scene because I ALWAYS got the tone wrong in some places gvhdjnksm but I like how it turned out, and the poison plot was peppered in places with varying levels of boldness, chief among which being when Gladion literally forced Moon to throw a bunch of flowers to prevent this
> 
> not that it mattered much in the end huh
> 
> yes. I shall remind you this is a Cinderella AU........................... abridged ig
> 
> but hey!! the angst didn't last too long. One good thing about relatively short multis is that you can't stretch angst too far, so it's a neat, angsty punch to the gut. To my taste it's rather mild but I'm admittedly desensitized to angst, to Agatha, to Faba (SURPRISE CAMEO I KNOW but I hate the bastard so he's in) and to everything
> 
> good thing though is that Moon's development is finally starting to show through and I remember being SO happy to see the bitch FINALLY do something YES GIRL GO GET YOUR BAG STOP LISTENING TO MOMMY TERROR
> 
> but the best part is that there are still 3 chapters left. isn't that AWESOME? :)))
> 
> next chapter is a GOOD one :)))))) ta-ta everyone uwu


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later, when night falls and Sabrina and Agatha are clad in their dancing dresses, Moon feigns submission to their orders. It's not like her to outright act deceivingly, but she knows there's no other way out of this situation other than to play pretend.

It isn't difficult. She's been who Agatha wanted her to be for the longest of times. Only this time, her true self is bubbling near the surface.

As Sabrina steps towards the carriage, smiling so wide her cheeks must hurt, Agatha approaches Moon. "Come with me, child."

Moon accepts this with plastic obedience. She knows what's coming next. Moon is surprised that the lock hasn't broken after the abusive use Agatha has been giving it.

And yet, as Agatha gently pushes her into the bedroom, Moon wants to believe in her good faith– even though she is no longer able to. She wants to find a sliver of motherly kindness in those narrow eyes of hers, a patch of fondness in her wrinkles.

"You do well in being obedient. I am sure that wherever that friend of yours is, he is thankful. Seeing you be so kind and considerate… your father would be so very proud of you." Agatha pats her head. "All you have to do is wait here. If fortune is on our side, Sabrina may come home arm in arm with the prince. Would that not be joyous?"

She doesn't know if the reminder of the prince's impending destiny is intentional, but it makes her breath hitch regardless. "How is the death of a person joyous, Mother?"

Agatha stares at Moon condescendingly. "Well, child, not everyone in this world deserves to be where they are. Your sister and I are merely trying to fix that. How can you be so foolish to not see the greatness of our plans?"

"I don't want the prince to be hurt, Mother." Moon clasps her hands over her chest. "I don't know if he's fit to rule or not, but… he's a kind man, Mother. He doesn't deserve the fate you have planned for him."

Agatha's lips scrunch into a scowl. No amount of makeup can hide the contempt in her features. "My, is that another strike of defiance I see, Moon?"

"No, absolutely not," she replies, resuming her meek act. "I would never, Mother. I am merely looking out for you and Sabrina. If you deem this to be the correct thing to do–"

"Of course it is the correct thing to do, you insolent child." Agatha frowns. She grabs Moon's jaw and pushes her face up. "I have told you many times to look people in the eye when you speak. Others might think you do not mean what you say."

"But I do mean it, Mother."

Agatha smiles, more wolfish than genuine. "Do not worry about us. Sabrina and I will make our plans succeed, and you will be safe with us. You have always wanted to live in a palace, have you not?"

Moon's eyes widen, her breath is caught in her throat. "A… palace?"

"Of course. And Sabrina would be the princess, along with you. I would never deny any of my dear children of their dreams, now would I?"

Moon doesn't like the tease in her question. It sounds acid, corrosive, like nails on her throat, threatening to choke her.

"You would let me be the princess with Sabrina?"

"Why, of course. I know about your dreams, and as foolish as I may find them, who am I to deny my little daughter of happiness? Imagine yourself, walking around the royal gardens, visiting the kitchens, the bedrooms… And we will live together as a happy family. All you must do is stay quiet."

Moon gasps. She nods nimbly, gulping down her pride.

Agatha chuckles and kisses her forehead. "We will talk tomorrow. Sleep tight, child."

And as the mother leaves, locking the door behind her, Moon's head remains bowed.

All of it is tempting: the big palace, the dresses, the bedrooms, the soft beds, and the plush pillows. There was nothing more she wanted than a lavish, carefree life, as part of a happy family...

Moon lifts her head.

...But not at the cost of someone's life.

After Moon hears the main door shutting close, she takes a deep breath and languidly lifts herself off the bed. She pulls the pin out of her hair, and loose curls cascade around her face.

Moon looks around the room as though the very shadow of Agatha was watching her, and kneels before the locked door before digging the pin into the little crevice. She's seen Lana do something like this in her own shop when she lost her keys, it shouldn't be that hard–

A little to the left, a little to the right, and Moon feels like she's getting nothing done. She sighs, hanging her head, hopeless, and bangs a fist on the door weakly, tempted to call for help– she needs to get out of here.

But who would hear her calls? How is she supposed to save her friends' lives if she–

The door creaks open.

"Someone's looking troubled this lovely evening."

Moon yelps and falls backward, panicking. But then, she sees Hau standing in front of her, and breathes out in relief.

"Goodness, you scared me."

Hau folds his arms, cocking his head as he watches her stand up. "Couldn't help but get worried. Wouldn't be a good godfather if I ignored this! You look like you're in trouble, what's up?"

The mention of the word _godfather_ lights her face up, and she quickly grasps his hands. "You could do magic, couldn't you?"

"Lots of it, yeah."

She smiles brightly. "Then I need your help! Mother, she– she's planning on doing something unspeakable to His Highness! I need to protect him somehow, but another friend of mine," her cheeks sting at the thought of Gladion, "will be in trouble if I even speak a word! Your magic can protect them both from Mother, am I correct?"

To her dismay, Hau's eyebrows crease. He shakes his head, and her heart falls. "No way, missy. I can't meddle with the life of humans like you. Dressing you up like a princess is fine, but messing with the lives of mortals and changing their future? Absolutely off-limits."

Something sinks in her belly, something that makes her knees quiver. "But– but Mother– she will hurt His Highness! I thought you wouldn't mind protecting someone in the same way you protected me."

Hau shakes his head again, sighing, and places his hands on Moon's shoulders. "I can't go out there and make Agatha suddenly disappear. But _you_ can make the problem disappear."

"Me?"

"Well, not _you_ ," he mischievously taps her nose, "but that lovely Lady of the Sunne that slipped into the party may know a way or two to crash into the party and warn the prince."

Moon gasps, remembering that, indeed, she _can_ simply go on as her dressed-up persona– even if the circumstances are far from as desirable as they used to be.

And yet, Moon twiddles with her thumbs. "What if Mother finds out?"

"You know darn well she won't. If you wanna make sure that boy is safe, you should go yourself. I can't do more than give you a lil' push." Hau rubs his chin, biting his lip. "I knew that old lady was bad news. Darn it. Guess all we can do is crash the party again."

Moon blinks. In these circumstances, it feels all too daring to put a mask on and waltz into the wolf's den once more, and yet...

If she could save him, any trouble would be worth it.

"Then, if you may… could you make me a new dress, once more?"

A brilliant grin graces his features. He nods enthusiastically. "Thought you'd never ask, missy. But I'm gonna need you to get the pumpkin and all that stuff first. I don't wanna give you less than the best, so you better hurry!"

Moon does as asked: she drags a pumpkin to the front of the manor, directs the mice to the pumpkin, and the owl from the last time flutters to Hau's spread arm. Her godfather swings his wand left and right, and the pumpkin grows into a familiar elegant carriage with a cracking noise.

It's all the same as that night, and where Moon once found it a dream, she now sees it as a means to escape.

Hau looks at her after that, thoughtful. "Guess I gotta give you a new dress, eh? No princess would go to a dance with the same dress."

With a flick of his wand and a few words, sparks dance around her. Her rags become a dress even more beautiful than the prior, spreading around her feet in a flurry of golden and white silk. Adornments and delicate lace sit on her hips, and her collarbones are crowned with a necklace of pure gold.

Her glass shoes float downwards from the window of her tower, and with a touch on her head, a delicate mask falls on her nose. Hau touches the rim with a coy smile. "Look at you! You sure make a fine princess!"

Moon smiles gracefully, picking up her skirt with a curtsy. "Thank you. The dress looks absolutely mesmerizing."

Hau bows back, laughing. "Don't sweat it! Remember it's all gonna disappear at midnight, though! You better be back before then, or else you're gonna be left standing in rags, and you won't have a way home."

Moon nods. "I will keep that in mind, I promise."

He helps her onto the carriage, mindful to not get her skirts trapped in the door. Moon takes a deep breath, clenching the fabric of her dress.

There's more at risk than her silly fantasies now.

Hau waves at her from outside the carriage as she closes the door.

"Remember: be courageous, and be kind, and don't let anyone step on your feet tonight!"

The carriage speeds into the night, and Moon is well aware now more than ever that the clock is ticking against her.

* * *

The palace is as opulent and grand as it was the first time she visited it, and when she steps down from the carriage, there are guards already by her side, bowing their heads to her as though she is the protagonist of this dance, and not the man waiting inside.

Moon keeps a straight face despite the evident blush tinting her cheeks, and walks gracefully up the wide stairs. Her steps are ghostly under the soft lull of music coming from inside, and she's sure she hears whispers among the guards lining the sides of the staircase.

When Moon reaches the palace and the dance room, people turn towards her, and just like last time, the prince sees her immediately. His eyes light up like stars in the sky, and he bows politely to the princess he's dancing with before walking towards Moon.

He glides towards her like a dream, and Moon is blown away for a brief moment. The lights of the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling frame his rosy hair like a halo.

His smile spreads as he bows to her. People gasp at his gesture, muted under the pianos, violins, and violas. "It is so nice to see you again, my lady. I thought I would never have a dance with you, but here you are."

Prince Ilima takes her velvet-gloved hand into his and kisses it. A few weeks ago, this gesture had felt like a blessing, like a dream. In a way, it still does.

And she can't deny it: he looks really good in his cream-colored suit. Moon smiles with a curtsy. "It is indeed nice to meet again. I am sorry for my tardiness."

The prince doesn't let go of her hand. He runs a thumb across her knuckles. "It is fine. I would have waited for you all night, had you never arrived."

With a nervous laugh, Moon allows him to pull her closer. She keeps her charade up with an unmoving smile. "Then, would you allow this humble lady to dance with the most dashing man in the room?"

The prince smiles. "Oh, I see you are a woman after my heart."

He adds a wink to it, more coy than prince-like, and gently leads her to the floor. The crowd parts for them, for her dress, and it's all the same, except things are darker, heavier, and the weight upon her shoulders is different.

After all, she doesn't want to marry the prince anymore; she's here to save his life.

The orchestra begins to play a familiar piece. His hand falls to her waist, and she rests hers on his shoulder. "You look lovely tonight, my lady. Would it be rude to ask for your first name?"

Moon giggles. "Why would you want to know?"

"I would like to know you better– if you will allow me, that is."

Moon's eyebrows perk up. That's a very good path to take things, but if he discovers she's a peasant in disguise, she would lose all credibility.

She might as well try to carry the conversation to better grounds.

Time to make more things up.

"Selene of–" her eyes flicker to the rose on his chest, " _Burgundy_. Selene of Burgundy."

Ilima hums. "Selene of Burgundy. A very serene name for a very beautiful woman."

The prince twirls her gracefully, and Moon spins. For a second, it feels like they're alone, in a greenhouse at the other side of the town, where only plants and soft music keep them company–

But, in her head, it's Gladion leading her as she dances. His hands holding her close. His perfume wafting around her, pulling her to calmness. She can see him holding her in this ballroom, showing her one of his rare smiles and telling her that everything will be okay.

When she blinks again, though, the image is gone, and she's back with a prince she no longer loves but that she desperately needs to talk to.

But this isn't safe, and if she tells the prince to follow her outside now, he might think she's up to something.

Unless…

"What a graceful dancer you are," the prince comments after a period of silence. "I have never seen a lady that dances as freely as you do."

Considering she hasn't been paying any attention at all in the last five minutes, that's remarkable. She giggles, "Oh, really? Thank you, you are a great dancer yourself. I can only imagine how the other ladies around us are desperate to dance with you."

And at this, he laughs. "Ah, what a conundrum it is to be so desired, yet only desire to dance with one person in this room."

The prince looks at her intently, so much so her whole body heats up and she blushes– this is a little too much for her.

Moon takes a deep breath. No more stuttering. No more detours.

"Your Highness," she begins, "after this dance, would you care for a walk around your gardens? I would like to see what they are like. I rarely have the occasion to relish in a promenade of this kind."

His eyebrows shoot up under his fringe. "You would like to have a walk?"

She nods. "I have heard great things about the gardens you keep in this palace. You have a magnificent collection of roses, do you not?"

The prince's smile grows sweet. "We do, indeed. We have great rose bushes of many colors, some of them red as the most beautiful of sunsets, wisteria by the thousands, and a beautiful marble fountain of the richest water in the kingdom."

Moon beams. "Would it be rude to ask you to walk me there? Dancing with you is an honor, but I would also like to talk to you in a more private place."

"Oh?" An impish spark twinkles in his dark eyes. "May I know what about?"

She giggles. "You shall find out after this dance if you wish– and…"

Moon cranes her head to the crowd, to the bodyguards sprinkled at the walls of the dance room. The prince follows her eyes. "Yes?"

She bites her lip, thinking of someone she would very much rather be with– even when she knows she simply can't. "Would you like to have a bodyguard with us? I am unsure of this palace's safety."

"There will be no need. The gardens are heavily guarded, and my personal bodyguard has the night free tonight."

So Gladion isn't here.

She finds herself relieved, but at the same time… The Lady of the Sunne and Selene of Burgundy could have met Gladion. Moon cannot. After this is over, she will go back to her usual self– and that means there will be no goodbyes. The thought hurts more than she would like.

"I see," Moon can't help the slip of disappointment in her voice. "I thought a man of your status would have several guards around him."

The prince shakes his head. "Well, I have my fair share of bodyguards, but my most trusted ally is beside me the most often when I am out and about. He knows I can defend myself just fine, but… he is like a brother to me. A little overbearing one, at that."

His smile as he speaks is fond, and while Moon had never contemplated what their bond could be, it's always seemed like Gladion is overprotective beyond his profession.

The music stutters, and then stops– and then begins again.

The prince loops an arm around her waist.

"Follow me outside. Let us get away for the night."

The garden is beautiful at night, illuminated by starlight and the moonlight. It's peaceful out here, with the music floating between the bushes and the rippling water.

Moon walks side by side with him, admiring the marble statues around the garden. "And I suppose those were also gifts?"

"Ah, yes, from an emissary in Lumiose. A very good friend of mine, you see." Ilima chuckles. "I never thought a lady like you would be so interested in these statues. Nobody ever seems to enjoy them."

Moon jolts. "Ah, my family is interested in treasures like these. I apologize if I seem too nosy."

"I appreciate your interest, actually. It is good to have something to talk about that is not related to economy or tea talks."

She's read so many fairy tales that the act comes and goes easily. It's like breathing to her, but she keeps getting distracted. She knows she has time; the prince has informed her that he hasn't drunk or eaten anything this evening, so he should be safe.

It's a matter of picking the right moment, and it doesn't help that the prince throws praise at her with every breath she takes.

They're nearing a beautiful arbor surrounded by flowers and vines of soft colors. They are relatively far from the palace. They trail in and out of silence easily, so now is the time to break the news and–

The prince grabs her hand and tugs her closer, holding it right below his lips. Moon loses her balance and places a hand on his chest, her eyes blown wide.

"My lady– No, _Selene_." His voice is below a whisper. "Have you ever read the Tale of the Celesteela Princess?"

She blinks furiously, blushing at the gesture. "I– I have not, I'm afraid."

"The tale says," a deep breath. His eyes become softer, infinitely so, "that a princess from another world and a prince once fell in love in a grove full of roses, and when they kissed, the princess was so happy she flew into space with her new lover, and they lived happily ever after together." Moon's throat seizes up. "Tell me, Selene: do you believe in fairy tales?"

Moon can see it in his eyes: she could make her dreams come true if she says a word– but she also knows it's not real, because he's in love with a pretty dress and a mask, not Moon.

And, after all, her heart isn't here anymore, but with someone else.

"I… I think I do, your Highness," she replies, rejoicing in the small chuckle he breathes. "Albeit with hesitance, I believe fairy tales can become true, but… maybe we can all create our own little fairy tales, don't you think?"

"I do, wholeheartedly so."

Prince Ilima lets go of her hand, and instead cups her cheek whilst his other hand goes to her hip, yanking her towards him. He's taller than her, maybe similar to Gladion, but the way he holds her is a bit softer and more careful.

He towers over her, watching her intently. "May I ask, Lady of the Sunne, if I could have a kiss?"

Before she can even say yes or no, he's leaning in, closing his eyes while Moon panics, because if he kisses her and she rejects him, he might get offended, because she's never been educated on how to handle these things, so–

Just as their noses brush, Moon presses a hand to his mouth, ducking her head with a violent blush.

"I– I– I apologize, I– I did not… I did not come here with, um, _that_ intention." Moon looks up from under her fringe. He's staring with wide eyes. "I wanted to have a conversation with you about something important."

He blinks. Moon lowers her hand. "Something… important?"

"Y-Yes. I find you incredibly charming and kind, but I did not bring you here with the intention of, um, kissing you."

For a second, Moon sees a crack in his suave demeanor. "Y-You did not?"

She shakes her head vigorously, attempting to recover her composure even when he's still holding her. "I am so sorry, your Highness. I did not mean to mislead you, I–" Moon takes a deep, deep breath. "I have something of great importance to tell you. I need you to listen carefully, please."

The prince is still stunned, and Moon can't blame him.

She sucks in a thin breath.

"Your life is in serious danger, your Highness. Somebody is plotting to remove you from the throne– their plans are in motion as we speak."

Silence. Ilima's expression is contorted in shock and horror.

"I… I beg your pardon? Could you please elaborate? How do you know this?"

"I recently discovered about this plot myself, your Highness. Somebody I know is involved in this, and they are adamant about their plans to a fault, but I am not powerful enough to stop them. They have contacts in your palace, someone whose name I cannot remember right now– Lord something the III. I believe he is your counselor."

A troubled frown appears on his face. "Do you mean Lord Faba?"

"Yes! He was talking with my, um, _acquaintance_ , about using poison to put you out of the throne once you got married– not to me, but someone else." He watches her in silence, thoughtful. "And, I– I came here with the intention of warning you. I really enjoyed this dance, and this walk, and your company, but I wanted to get this out of the way before the night continued, so…"

Moon trails off as she hears something familiar.

Laughter– from the prince.

It's not a fit of hysterics nor smug, just genuine surprise. Moon's stomach twists at the disbelief in his eyes, how his posture is too light and carefree to betray any trouble or terror.

He doesn't believe her.

"Oh, Lady of the Sunne, and may I know where your proof is?"

That makes her stumble a little. "I do not have it with me, but–"

"Your contact must be deceiving you, my lady. I know Lord Faba may be a little odd if you have met him, but he is nothing but a brilliant scientist. You have nothing to worry about." Moon's eyes widen, and he chuckles. "I am aware that my life is often in danger, but Lord Faba is my uncle, Lady Burgundy. He would never lay a finger on me."

"Your Highness, the threat is real, and you must listen to me before–!"

The prince lies a finger on her lips, shushing her. Moon's lips quiver, and when she tries to take a step back, he stops her, bracing her against him with a hand on the small of her back. A shock of fear stills her.

"My lady, I think you are a little too stiff. You must relax. My life is in no danger, of that I can assure you." His smile is intoxicating, and her stomach lurches accordingly. "Maybe we should keep talking about fairy tales, just like you wished earlier. We must forget about this nonsense at once."

Moon clenches her teeth. "Your Highness, this is not nonsense, it's–!"

_Rustle, rustle_.

She looks over the prince's shoulder and spots a mop of blond hair behind a bush, a familiar cold stare fixed on them, emerald green eyes– and at once, it disappears.

Moon's heart soars.

She wrangles herself out of the prince's hold and darts away, chasing after Gladion like her life depends on it– screw heartbreak, screw goodbyes, screw how much it will hurt, screw it _all_.

Prince Ilima didn't believe her, but Gladion would, and maybe she could take this chance to come clean about everything.

As she bolts after him, she relies on losing Ilima in the little maze that is this garden. Ilima's shouts are growing muted, her glass slippers nearly trip her more than once. The hems of her dress are stained by grass and dirt.

Just as she's exiting the garden, Moon's heel catches on a tree root and she topples forward.

A strong arm stabilizes her and swings her back to balance, keeping his arm around her waist in a way that screams _protection_.

Gladion stares at her in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and Moon can only hold her breath to keep her heart from bursting at the sight. He's dressed informally, and his hair is disheveled, maybe from his sudden sprint away.

But he's here now– with her.

And then he isn't, releasing a little "Tch," as he stalks off with his hands in his pockets. Alarmed, Moon pulls up her skirts and chases after him to the staircase that leads to the castle.

"Gladion, wait, please!" But he doesn't stop. "Let me explain myself, please! Wait for me!"

Those are the magic words, though when he turns, he's _fuming_. "Where in the world have you been?"

"I–"

"You just– you _disappeared_ , Moon! Where did you go? Did you just decide to ditch me for the prince when you saw you had a chance?"

"No, of course not! Why are you so angry at me?"

"Because I thought something happened to you! I was _worried_!" His fists are clenched tight, and so is his jaw, his shoulders, _everything_. "And I'm not angry, I just– I looked everywhere for you! And now I find you _here_ , of all places!"

Moon flinches at the accusation in his tone, but knows she has no time to focus on that– there's something more important to deal with.

"I'm here for a reason!" Moon says. He falls silent, and she presses on. "Remember the rumors you told me about someone conspiring against the prince?"

Gladion's eyes grow wide through the anger. "Spit it out. _Now_."

"Lord Faba the III– that's the guy who is behind this, along with– with my mother."

And his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Lord _Faba_ and Agatha Berlitz? Your mother?"

"And maybe my sister, Sabrina, but I can't know that for sure." Moon clasps her gloved hands together. "I came here to tell the prince about this, but he refused to believe me, and then I saw you, and now– now we're here."

Moon clutches her chest as though she just went for a run, which she had in a way, but her heart is racing for another reason entirely.

"You… you came here to tell the prince that his uncle is conspiring against him?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, and– and I don't expect you to believe me, but I read the letters, Gladion. I read one of them, actually, and before I could… Mother– she–" Her chest clenches remembering that she's standing on very thin ice right now. "She knows I know. And she threatened me with terrible things, and to do things to– to you, too."

Gladion sucks in a sharp breath. "Is… is that why you... hid from me?"

Moon nods vigorously.

"I see. I see now. I… I never thought about that. I thought you just– just left."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you were worried," Moon says quietly, sighing. "I never wanted things to end up like this, but now the prince is in danger: the moment he gets married, my sister will dispose of him with poison."

"Hold on, your sister? Your sister isn't dating him, is she?"

"No, she isn't, but Mother and Faba have plans for them to meet, fall in love, and get married. They're probably somewhere in the ballroom now."

Gladion exhales, frowning thoughtfully. "But you can't expect to accuse a high-ranking noble of the court without any proof."

Moon purses her lips. "I know it's ridiculous, but–"

"No, this is _not_ ridiculous, it's just– it's crazy. And it makes me angry that even if we _had_ proof, it'd be hard to incriminate someone with that rank."

Her face falls at the hopelessness in his voice. She fidgets with the skirt of her dress. "What are we going to do, then? We can't let them get to His Highness, or else– or else–"

He places his hands on her shoulders, pressing comfortingly. "I will watch over him tonight. I'll stick by his side and make sure nobody comes close with food or drinks."

That's better than nothing, Moon supposes, and it's enough to put her at ease. "Thank you, Gladion."

He nods. "As long as His Highness is by my side, he'll be safe. Their plan is strange, though– it would never work out."

Moon blinks. "Why?"

Gladion's eyes narrow. "Because his Highness is head over heels for _you_ , obviously." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "And that's what you wanted, right?"

Moon takes a few seconds to think, clenching her skirt in uncertainty. She shakes her head, her lips pursed. "I don't want to marry him anymore."

"You… what?"

She looks around, hands plucking at the skirt of her dress. It feels a little too heavy, and so does the mask. "I don't fit here, and this life… it's not for me, no matter how much I love all this luxury. It's not him who I wish to marry anymore."

"Wait… not _him_?"

Moon nods. She lifts her chin, looks at him in the eye. Her heart leaps and skips in her ribcage, on the verge of exploding just by looking at the emotion swimming in his eyes.

"I've found someone else I would like to marry– no, that I would _love_ to marry. A man that understands me and sees me for who I am, rather than for how I dress."

Her smile is gentle, but his expression tightens to a scowl. His disdain is growing by the second, so much so she fears he will storm off– he probably doesn't like her rambling.

She takes a step towards him.

"What are you talking about? If you don't want to marry the prince, then who on earth do you–"

Moon grips the lapels of his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss, holding him as close as she can. He stiffens against her in response, but his lips are soft and warm. Fireworks explode in her head as a surge of passion snakes through her, a heady feeling pressing her against him.

And then his hands cup her cheeks, hands calloused and gentle, caressing her face with care. He glides his lips against hers, matching her in passion and frenzy, and a shudder storms through her very core. His lips move at a steady rhythm that makes her knees buckle. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her gasp away.

He tilts her head to kiss her better, to feel her better. His hands drift downward, settling on her lower back. His tongue presses on her lower lip, and with a whimper, she shyly meets him in the middle, thrust by thrust. Something electric bounces within her, warms her skin.

She loses herself in his touch, fisting the front of his shirt as she tiptoes to feel him better, and he holds her firmly, hungrily, as though he's just as resolute about not letting her go–

Bells chime above them. Midnight strikes.

Moon pushes herself from his embrace, stumbling back on weak legs.

Gladion is staring at her in absolute shock while she touches her lips. Unsure of what just happened.

So she does a curtsy, shakily so.

"I– I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but in case we don't meet again…" A genuine lopsided smile. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Gladion– I hope you have a good life."

Moon picks up her skirt and runs down the staircase, unaware of how Gladion shouts after her.

She trips and falls at the last step of the staircase.

She gathers herself quickly, picking up her dress again, rushing to her carriage that will soon but a mere pumpkin. They race into the night at dangerous speed as the spell begins to disappear.

A glittering little glass slipper is left behind at the staircase, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /grabs broom
> 
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> /slams it ad infinitum
> 
> I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A GOOD ONE GJBHFKJDLKSLKMNJDAMK finally some semblance of cinderella in this cinderella AU LMAOO but yes the shoe thing happened, my I wonder how I'll resolve this!!! definitely with lots of fluff and love because Moon's family is THAT loving and this fic isn't unfair at all ha ha haha :')
> 
> anyhowwhen very fitting of this chapter to go live in Valentines LMAO, I enjoyed writing Gladmoon's confrontation a LOT and I loved the outcome, you can really tell Gladion's been distressed about this and I love that subtlety, it shines pretty well and I'm proud of that! The only thing I hate in this chap is Ilima, the fucker, trying to woo Moon over when HE CAN'T GET SOME BLACK EYESHADOW ON HIS FINGERS >:( BACK OFF MISTER GO CINDERS OR GO HOME
> 
> I was clearly fangirling as I wrote this chapter, god bless Dai for putting up with my squeals of excitement, this chapter just
> 
> So after the nightmare that was last chapter you're welcome, lower your pitchforks or I'm starting lawsuits, first warning
> 
> Moon: /informs Ilima about the possibility of someone being after his head  
> Ilima; hoh hoh hoh who cares about the future, ejoy the present, I'm rich let's kiss muah muah  
> Moon: /tells Gladion someone is after the prince  
> Gladion: /FULL MOM MODE (and then smooch)
> 
> Two men, people. Two types of men.
> 
> I have this awful tendency of using Ilima as 'Gladion but preppy and posh' and I need to stop but I have to channel the crush I had on Ilima somewhere and I will not be stopped I have decided that >:(
> 
> "I've found someone else I would like to marry– no, that I would love to marry. A man that understands me and sees me for who I am, rather than for how I dress." - See, Ilima, if you had literally GOTTEN YOUR HANDS A LITTLE DIRTY you'd have 1 less problem to deal with and now your best man's gonna steal your man. fuck you Ilima mrgrgr
> 
> anyway enough rambling, see you next week :))) next week's chapter is quite long so be ready for a razzledazzle my amigos, ta-ta for now!!


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**WARNING!**

This chapter contains a scene containing emotional abuse.

If this is something you aren't comfortable with, tread with caution.

* * *

Nobody in the Berlitz Manor had discovered Moon's secret escapade.

Understandably so, both Agatha and Sabrina spend the following week _fuming_ that the prince didn't give them the time of day.

Agatha shakes her head as she reads the newspaper. "That _brat_ snatched the prince before Sabrina could even dance with him. And when she left, she caused a terrible ruckus. She may dress like a princess, but she has no more manners than an uncultured peasant."

Moon stills, nearly dropping the plate she's washing. "A ruckus?" The mother nods. "What do you mean, ruckus?"

"She ran away from this guard that was trying to take her back to the dance. Silly, I call that." She sips from her black coffee. "Imagine the face of the prince when that guard burst into the ballroom with a little glass slipper and no woman by his side."

"I… I see," Moon says with a nervous laugh, though in her head, she's positively panicking.

_She left one of the shoes_? That can't be!

She was so tired when she got home the previous night that she simply stashed her shoes under her bed and called it a day, not wanting to look at them, not daring to think about Gladion and the goodbye kiss they shared.

Agatha sighs in aggravation. "The prince was distraught that he lost sight of that girl, but seeing how she fled, it is safe to assume she will not show her face for the next dance, if there is one."

Moon fidgets with the slippery plate on her hands. "Are you not happy about that?"

"Oh, very. But that man is stubborn to a fault, as all men are these days. There are no more worthy men in this world, not like the gentlemen back in my time." An aggravated sigh escapes her. "He will look for her, I am sure. She was wearing a little mask, so she could be anyone in the world. He will be busy for a long time."

That means, theoretically speaking, that the prince won't be available for marriage for as long as he keeps looking for her. In a way, she has put a stop to Agatha's plans, and she couldn't be happier about that.

Seeing the little smile trembling in her lips, Agatha frowns. "Surely that is not a look of happiness, that the future of our family has been ruined by a stupid little princess."

Moon gasps. "No, not at all, I simply–"

The doorbell rings. They stare at each other for another moment before Agatha sighs, moving towards the front door. Moon busies herself scrubbing another plate, but she keeps an ear on the hallway.

"Good morning, Lady Berlitz. May I have a bit of your time, please? It should only take a few minutes at most."

A richly-dressed man walks into the manor with a couple of men behind him, carrying a cushion with something shiny on top. Moon gasps and carefully ducks out of view, busying herself with washing duty.

"Good morning, what can I do for you today?"

"We come in the prince's name to find the woman that stole his Highness's heart, but has sadly abandoned him before he could even propose to her."

Agatha snickers. "Well, that woman certainly does not know what she is missing. May I know what you are looking for? I would like to help as much as I can."

"Well, per the prince's words, we are looking for a beautiful maiden by the name of Selene of Burgundy. Graceful like a fairy, with hands like silk and a voice more enchanting than that of a siren. I hope you forgive His Highness's prose, he is more than enamored."

Moon gasps. In the lobby, Agatha hums in contemplation. "Well, I have never heard that house name before. Is she a foreigner?"

"Alas, his Highness has contacted his fellow noblemen in foreign lands, and nobody has ever heard of the Burgundy House." Well, _crap_. "He has concluded his lady may be a shy noblewoman in this kingdom under a fake name, as we have no evidence of such a woman existing anywhere in the premises of the region."

Moon's breath hitches. Agatha's tone, between cunning and surprised, doesn't help. " _Oh_. So this lady could be anyone in the kingdom?"

"Absolutely anyone, though the prince has assured us that the manners and grace of his maiden were that of a gentlewoman. We believe you have two daughters, have you not?"

Moon lets out a horrified gasp. If the Lady of the Sunne is now an anonymous face that _anyone_ could be behind, then that means–

Agatha laughs. "That I do! Though only one of them could possibly be her. I shall summon my beautiful daughter, Sabrina. Sabrina, my dear, come to the sitting room!"

The men follow Agatha in. Moon sneaks across the lobby and up the staircase to her bedroom. She's sure she has the two slippers with her, tucked under her bed– they have to be there! This has to be a hoax of some kind, right?

Moon rushes across her bedroom and peers underneath.

There's only one slipper there, lying on its side.

Despite never being one to curse, Moon lets out a little one into the air, and looks behind her shoulder, listening to the distant echoing chatter. She rushes out of her bedroom, looking over the railing of the staircase to see Sabrina seated on the sofa, her foot propped on a cushioned stool.

"This is the slipper of the lost lady. It seems to be custom-made, and nobody else in this kingdom has been a perfect fit." The shoe bearer gets on one knee. "Let us see if you will be the one."

Moon holds her breath. The shoe cannot possibly fit Sabrina, of all people. Hau made the shoe for her specifically, so there is no way–

Gasps fill the room. Sabrina squeals.

"It is a perfect fit!" The shoe bearer claps along with his footmen. "Unbelievable, we have found the prince's future wife in the last house!"

Sabrina nods eagerly, looking at the shimmering slipper on her foot with a big smile. "I am so happy the prince would like to see me again. Last night was one to remember, and I will certainly make him happy for the rest of his days."

She's just as much of a liar as Agatha, and Moon realizes that this has granted them a shortcut to make their plans come to fruition. But if _she_ proves to be the real owner of the shoe, she will get an interview with the prince to explain the truth, and maybe even get Gladion as an ally.

Although that also means that she will put Agatha and Sabrina against her– maybe for good this time.

And Moon has the other shoe to prove herself.

"Hold on, please!"

The little crowd in the living room looks up to see Moon running down the staircase. The shoe bearer looks at her, from her ragged dress to her disheveled hair, staring at her cindered cheeks.

"Oh? What do we have here?"

Agatha shakes her head in disapproval. "Child, what are you doing here? This is a very, _very_ important meeting. Can you not see it?"

A threat in her eyes, a vicious edge in her voice; Moon has seen it all before.

"I apologize for interrupting the meeting, but I would also like to try the slipper, if you would be so kind." Moon clasps her hands together. "I know I don't look the part, and this is not my sort of scene, but…"

The shoe bearer looks at Agatha. "My lady, is this your other daughter?"

Agatha turns her head in distaste. "She may as well not be, seeing how disappointing her behavior persists on being– but she is a good child otherwise, devoted to making her family happy. Are you not, _dear_?"

Moon doesn't lower her head, and instead looks at the shoe bearer straight on. "I'm her daughter, sir. My name is Moon."

The shoe bearer smiles at her, and Agatha instantly cuts in. "Sir, I would suggest you take Sabrina to the palace at once. My little Moon did not attend the dance– because you did not, did you, dear?"

Her mother is panicking, Moon can tell, but the shoe bearer is unfazed. "Nonsense! The prince ordered I give this slipper to every maiden in the kingdom, and as a daughter of your noble house, this lady certainly could fit in. Sit down, please."

Moon obliges, avoiding the piercing glares of Agatha and Sabrina. She holds her foot up, expectant, knowing the shoe will fit just fine.

A moment passes. Agatha and Sabrina wait with widening eyes. Her foot slides into the slipper easily.

The shoe bearer gawks. "Unbelievable! This shoe fits her as well! We have found not just one possible Lady Burgundy, but _two_!"

Agatha growls under her breath, holding her walking stick with a trembling grip. "How _shocking_. However, since Sabrina is the first fit, she should be the one taken to the palace. Look at her, good sirs; see her class, her beauty, her grace, her elegance. Something I am afraid my little Moon was not gifted with."

The shoe bearer frowns at Agatha, thoughtful.

"Well, then," the shoe bearer offers Sabrina a hand. "Perhaps she could produce the other shoe, then?"

Something in the room breaks into pieces. It's not physical nor palpable, but Moon can feel it shatter.

Agatha _knows_ Sabrina doesn't have the other slipper.

"Moon, dear, would you be so kind as to follow me upstairs?"

* * *

In her bedroom, Agatha swings the door close with uncharacteristic force. She grabs Moon's thin, ragged blanket from the bed and, to Moon's confusion, she shakes it free of dust.

She is stiff, thoughtful, coldly silent.

Moon waits for the hit, for the harsh words. This silence scares her more.

"So..." Agatha starts. "Where is the other slipper, Moon?"

She's hesitant to answer, so she doesn't. "I have it stored away. I was afraid I might stumble with it somehow, and– and I didn't want anyone else to see it."

Agatha sighs. She folds the blanket and places it on her bed, her movements deceivingly gentle. Moon's eyes widen as Agatha pulls the windows shut, taking a small, rusty lock out of her apron pocket and putting it in place.

"Of course. I suppose being a liar must have taken a toll on you, did it not?"

"Mother–"

"Do _not_ call me that. Do not try to make me pity you when you have been nothing but a scoundrel." Agatha's hands shake. "You promised me you wanted to fix our family, Moon."

"And– And I did!" Moon gulps down the wish to apologize, knowing Agatha doesn't deserve one. "All I wanted was to have fun, and–"

"How am I supposed to believe you anymore, child? How many lies have you spoonfed to your loving family, that only wanted to protect you? It was only a matter of time before we saw through your stories." Agatha finally turns to Moon. She grabs the walking stick from the wall. "On top of that, you have dug your nose into our… little secrets."

Mentioning that alone is a threat. "Mother, it is not what it looks like, I– I swear."

"Enough lies. You have turned into a monster: hurting people, doing as you so selfishly wished, hindering your sister's future… you have betrayed everything you stood for."

"I–"

"Sit down, child."

"No, I–"

"I said _sit down_. Now."

Tense and stiff, Moon grabs the chair from a corner of the room and drags it forward. She sits on it.

Agatha approaches her and towers over her. "Do you realize what you have done, Moon? Did you think you could play around under our noses and get away with it?"

"I wasn't playing around," Moon says shakily. "I never meant to, I just– I was trying to do what is right, Mother."

"Your morals must be skewed then, for you have tried to destroy our plans, our dreams. You had dreams before, didn't you, dear? Do you not care about your poor sister, who also wanted a prince to love?"

Moon nearly agrees, but she screeches to a halt. "Sabrina doesn't love the prince."

"Utterly ridiculous notion, love in a marriage. Sabrina deserves far more from that stubborn womanizer with little to offer, other than a title and a good-looking offspring. And no matter what, I am going to fix this. As usual, I am the one to fix the messes you leave at your wake."

"... Fix things?"

"Your little game of play-pretend is over. It ends today." Horror creeps into Moon's heart. "This is what you will do: you will give the other slipper to Sabrina, and you will tell the shoe bearer you simply wanted to look at it, or whatever fancy excuse you can come up with. After all, you have proved to be talented in the art of deception."

Moon shudders at the implications behind that idea. "But the prince– you cannot–"

"You forfeited him and your right to care about his safety the moment you left him behind. I will take matters into my own hands."

Moon squares her jaw. "I can't let you do that, Mother."

Her eyes flare in anger. Her fingers tighten around her walking stick. "You dare try to tell your Mother what to do?"

"But–"

"Be _quiet_ , Moon."

"No!" Moon exclaims. "I do not want the prince to– to _die_ , Mother." She exhales shakily. "I only wanted to protect him."

"And look where such foolish feelings took you."

Moon flinches. Agatha looks around her room briefly. "You will give the slipper to your sister... unless you want your little friends to face trouble just because you wanted to keep playing pretend for your sickly fantasies."

Her stomach twists. "What do you mean _trouble_?"

Agatha smirks.

"Do you remember your friend, Gladion?"

Moon's heart falls. A cold shudder runs down her spine.

Agatha snickers. "Ah, of course you do, but perhaps you do not know about his past, a past he could very well be executed for. Not only him, but his whole family." Her eyes darken as she watches Moon's face pale. "He has a very interesting past: faking legal documents, trafficking with illegal goods–"

"They're _not_ illegal!" Moon yells. "It's all for his mother, it's medicine!"

"So you _do_ know him and his crimes," Agatha's lips curl. She twiddles with her walking stick. "Do not waste your breath. Nobody will believe a lost, little girl with such foolishness in her heart, let alone if she sides with a criminal."

"Gladion is not a criminal," Moon insists. "He– He might have done bad things, but he doesn't deserve any of this, Mother. All he wants is to help out, he's not a criminal– he's a good person!"

"In this world, a demon can be a king and an angel can be a thief. It is not a fair world, Moon, and I think it is time you start to adjust to it."

Agatha leans over her. Grabbing Moon's chin, she forces her to look up, and Moon doesn't hesitate to meet her glare this time, clenching the front of her dress tight.

"But–" Moon bites her lip. Tears are building in her eyes, making Agatha a blur before her. "But– the prince–"

Agatha arches a questioning, challenging eyebrow. Moon lets out a shaky, deep breath.

She folds her arms, embracing herself. "Can I… could you give me some time?"

Agatha releases her, nodding. "I will tell the shoe bearer that we have lost the slipper, and I shall tell him to come by tomorrow again– that is your deadline. Tomorrow."

Agatha steps away from Moon, only looking at her again when she's at the door. Moon's head is bowed down, and sobs bubble in her throat, seizing it like a rope choking her alive.

"Think carefully about what is best for all, child– you have been selfish for far too long. Sneaking and lying your way to your fantasies will destroy you."

The door swings shut, the lock clicks close, and Moon is left alone again.

* * *

Moon doesn't have lunch, and Moon doesn't have dinner.

Sabrina slips a slice of flatbread through her door, and that's all Moon eats. There's a pit of hollowness within her that prevents Moon from eating anything other than her own pity and the weight of her decisions.

Judging by the lack of visits, she will be here for a long time. Even if she repents and does what Agatha asks, Moon is convinced this is the end of the trust Agatha and Sabrina had in her.

So she cries to herself on the floor. She cries until she has no more energy left and she can hardly breathe.

She doesn't know how much time she spends there, looking at nothing in particular.

What is she supposed to do now?

"H-Hau?" Moon calls into the dark very, very quietly. "Are you there?"

"Hey, missy. You're looking rough."

A soft weight cracks on her old wheat bed. A familiar voice.

Moon shakes her head. "I failed, Hau."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I should have been more careful." She sniffs, though no tears come out. "If I had been more careful, maybe I wouldn't have revealed myself so quickly– it was a very dumb idea, in hindsight. And– and maybe I could have been more convincing with His Highness, so he would have believed me."

Moon wipes her cheeks. Silence lingers around her.

"I thought I– I could help, because I knew what Mother was doing, and I thought I could be brave enough, but all I do ends up hurting someone. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore, so… so maybe Mother is right and I should just be quiet." Moon curls into herself, bringing her knees under her chin. "What do I do, now?"

He hums in thought. "What do _you_ wanna do?"

"I want to run away."

"Run away?"

She nods. "I want to run away from everyone. I wish I didn't care about the prince or Gladion, but… I can't run away. Not when this is partly my fault."

Hau sighs, hopping off the bed and approaching her. "Hey, none of this is your fault."

"Gladion is in danger because of me, and while Mother's deeds are not mine, I still feel like I need to fix this, somehow." She sits up, supporting herself on weak arms. "If I choose to save the prince's life, they will execute Gladion, and if I don't do anything, the prince–"

She blinks furiously to stave off tears, but another sob rocks through her.

"Wait a sec, missy. Take a deep breath." Hau kneels right next to her on the floor, smiling softly. "Let's go step by step, okay? What did you call me for?"

"I… I was hoping you could help me out, somehow," Moon stutters, toying with her fingers, trying to relax. "I don't know what to do. I can't go anywhere– Mother has locked my window and the doors, and no matter where I go, I will run into problems."

Hau rubs the back of his neck. "I could help."

Her eyes gleam. "You can?"

"Yeah. But I'm not gonna do that."

Urgently, she tilts her head, shifting to her knees. "Wait, why not? I– I can't get out of here otherwise! You have helped me in the past!"

"I mean, yeah, but I can't keep on making dresses for you all your life, missy, and I don't think you need my help anymore." Moon opens her mouth to speak, but Hau holds up a hand. "Let me ask you something: do you like living here, Moon?"

Moon is tempted to answer that yes, she does, but she realizes where she is, where she stands.

Moon bows her head. "Not currently."

"Be honest: did you ever really like it here?"

Maybe she did at first, when she couldn't really _think_ for herself. When Agatha told her what to do, what to wear, how to think. It was a simple life where she didn't have to be anything for anyone.

It was easier back then, and yet…

"I liked it here before, but… I think I'm seeing things that are wrong, just– so many things." Moon looks around herself, digging her fingers into the rags of her dress. "I don't like this room, I have never liked it. And– And I don't like it when Mother controls everything I do. I'm tired of living like this. And I wish I didn't have to."

Hau grins. "That's what I meant. If you wanna get things done, you gotta move on your own. Now think for a sec: things would be solved if you convinced your Prince Charming somehow, right?"

Moon nods. "Yes, but… the only proof I have is the letters Agatha threw away, and if she has received any new ones, she will surely have hidden them better. And I can't reach the palace anyway, so…"

A beat of silence, a pause. The night keeps rolling, the world keeps spinning. She wants to run away to where she can be who she wants to be, with who she wants to be.

"Moon," Hau says as he rises to his feet. "If you wanna save those people, then you're not gonna do a darn thing sitting there. You gotta break out of here and get the _hell_ away from here."

The idea alone scares her into wide eyes and stammered words. "But– Mother and Sabrina–"

"Do you think those two are gonna keep your Prince Charming safe?" No, of course not– and Hau knows this. "You've sneaked out of here for the hell of it, tried to do _everything_ on your own, so you can do it again. You gotta leave. Now."

"But… Mother and Sabrina– they're my family. I can't just abandon them like this, can I? It would be so selfish of me to leave. My father would not want me to be so heartless..."

Hau shakes his head. "Your pa would've wanted you to be happy, and you're not happy here. They've been denyin' you the chance of living your own life. I know you've got the purest heart in this place, and you can't let 'em step on you as they please."

She thinks the same way– she's tired of having her dreams denied, her wings cut, and her wishes broken, but…

"You… really think so?" Hau nods, smiling still. "But they will hurt Gladion and the prince if I defy them."

"Not if you get there faster with some spicy proof about your ma's stuff."

Agatha had undoubtedly gotten rid of the letters, and the little samples she had seen attached to the letters would surely be gone as well, unless–

Moon gasps. " _Oh_! I have an idea!" She rushes to the door. "I need to get out of here, I need to get out, but–!"

The heavy wood remains shut, even with all her banging. Moon runs to the window instead, tugging at the rusty lock, but it doesn't budge.

So she turns around. Behind Hau, there's a chair. With a determined frown, Moon grabs the chair from the corner.

Hau's jaw hits the floor when she lifts it, staring at the window. "Hold up, what are you gonna do?"

"You said I had to break out." She takes a couple of steps back and then breaks into a run. "So that's what I'm going to do!"

She swings the chair at the window. The glass shatters into pieces, splinters leaving tiny cuts on her cheeks, but Moon ignores them. With her escape route chosen, Moon hurries to her bed.

Pushing her slipper into her pocket, Moon stares at the broken window. "Do you think Mother has heard me?"

"I doubt she has, your tower is crazy high– but don't think about that. I'll keep the fort here, just go do your business, and don't you even think about running back here, missy." Hau gives her a thumbs up, winking. "Good luck out there, and make sure to visit sometime! And invite me to the wedding when you get married to that bodyguard of yours."

Her cheeks blister. Moon throws her arms around Hau in a quick, tight hug. When they part, she bows her head. "Thank you for everything, Hau. I promise I'll make things right."

Hau chuckles, pushing her towards the window. "Go give 'em hell. Make your pa proud!"

Moon smiles enthusiastically and, no longer hesitating, she climbs down the tower, down the vines, and out of the little jail she called home. Leaf by leaf, she gets one step further away from her family, knowing that now that she's gone, she will never come back.

With the slipper secure in her dress pocket, Moon rushes to the back door of her house, kneels in front of a pile of discarded papers. She finds what she's looking for in a matter of seconds.

"Perfect," she mutters with a relieved smile. Tucking it into the apron pocket of her dress, Moon runs into the night, clutching the slipper to her chest.

* * *

When Moon reaches the castle, the gates are closed. In a fit of urgent impatience, Moon considers climbing over them and running to the palace, but a guard in his armor grabs her arm.

"Excuse me, young lady, where do you think you're going?"

Moon tries to free herself, but the guard holds her still. "I need to see His Highness! Open the gates, please!"

"We can't open the gates for every dirty little peasant that wants to visit the palace. Go back to bed before it gets any colder, miss. The streets are dangerous these days."

She fumbles with her old apron as she fishes the little slipper out of her pocket. It glitters under the starlight. The guards gasp at this, and she hears them whisper to one another in awe and wonder.

She's tattered in cinders, her hair is a mess, and her shoes are dirty beyond belief– but no matter what she wears, the shoe will always be hers.

"Take me to the prince," Moon says decisively, braver and more emboldened than ever before. "I'm the woman he is looking for, and I need to speak to him urgently."

The guards hesitate at first, but eventually open the gates for her and march right behind her as she heads up the stairs she's only ever walked as a princess, and past the heavy doors to the palace, through the empty ballroom she once called heaven, and through a corridor leading to a golden room at the back of the palace.

The throne room is smaller than the ballroom but equally grand and elegant, if not more. Marble floors reflecting the chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling, thick curtains behind the guards at the sides of the room.

A red velvet carpet runs across the room, leading to the thrones of the queen, the king and the prince, watching with wide eyes as Moon walks into the room flanked by guards.

One guard hurries forward. "Your Majesties! I am sorry to intrude, but this woman has claimed to be the bearer of the precious glass slipper!"

As Moon steps forward, the prince stands, eager to meet his precious Selene of Burgundy. Armed guards line the walls, backed against them like perfect statues, with one of them stands right in front of the stairs that lead to the throne.

Before Ilima can speak, another man does so– a man with huge green glasses, flicking his pointy platinum beard back and forth. "Who is this _peasant_? Since when do we allow rats into our courtroom? I demand an explanation, woman! Who are you?"

Moon meets his glare, defiant. "My name is Moon, sir! His Highness knows me as Selene of Burgundy or the Lady of the Sunne– though we have met before, Your Highness, if you recall."

The king turns to his son, his eyes wide. "Is this the maiden you were so desperately looking for? This young woman in rags?"

"I have met Moon before," the prince says with a pleasant smile that brings slight relief to Moon's heart. "Though… I would never have thought her to be the dashing Lady of the Sunne I met weeks ago. How can you prove your identity?"

Moon holds up the glass slipper, and for proof, she removes one of her flats to slip into the marvelous shoe– and as it did earlier in the morning, it's a perfect fit, making everyone in the room gasp.

"This shoe is the one your servants are missing," Moon promises, stumbling a little without the other shoe. "I know my sister, Sabrina, also fits the shoe– however, she didn't have the other one, I did. These slippers have always belonged to me, your Highness."

Ilima orders the other shoe to be brought to her, and Moon slips it on smoothly.

The man with the big glasses stares at her in distaste. "That does not prove a thing, you utter simpleton. Perhaps your sister was the one and you merely stole the shoes like the little thief you seem to be!"

Ilima turns to him, frowning. "Hold on, Uncle Faba."

Oh.

_Oh_.

So this is _the_ Faba– the conspiring mastermind. Ilima reads her eyes perfectly, possibly remembering what she said that night about his uncle, and takes a step away from him.

Moon frowns, resolute.

"But, your Majesty, your Highness, I'm not here to prove that I pretended to be a princess I am not, or that I wish to have your son's hand in marriage– something that, if he recalls, we... discussed briefly."

His parents look at him, and Ilima smiles, troubled. "So I see you _are_ the Lady of the Sunne. What a serendipitous nickname you found for yourself." He laughs quietly. "I don't suppose you are here to have a dance with me again, are you?"

"I am sorry to disappoint once more, your Highness, but I am not." Moon turns, very slowly, to the core of her problems– Lord Faba, glaring at her like she's a pest. "I am here to warn you about something of greater importance. Lord Faba has been conspiring against you, Your Highness."

The rest of the room falls into a hush, but to the right, Lord Faba begins to laugh.

"I beg your pardon? How dare you say something so _insolent_ , you creature? Are you aware that you are accusing me, the grand Lord Faba, of a crime? I could have you jailed because of such insolence!"

The queen turns to Ilima, more worried than disbelieving. "Dear, are you familiar with what this woman is saying?"

Ilima is thoughtful this time, eyebrows knit in confusion. "She did mention it before. I thought she was merely trying to dip her toes into our politics as a strategy, but…" He trails off, and then frowns at her. "I asked for evidence back then, if you recall."

"I do, Your Highness."

"Have you brought any evidence this time, Moon? What are you exactly accusing Lord Faba of?"

Lord Faba rubs his hands together, grinning wolfishly. "Yes, yes! What ridiculous story does a peasant like you have? I am so curious to hear, please, do share!"

Moon clears her throat.

"A while ago, I found a pile of letters in the office belonging to a friend of Lord Faba's. Lord Faba was writing to this person about details for the future assassination of the prince. These letters have been disposed of by this person, yet I managed to find remnants of them."

"Nonsense!" Lord Faba yells, standing up from his throne. "That is utter nonsense!"

"Silence!" Ilima orders, scowling. "Continue, Moon."

"This subordinate was sent details on the poison that would be used against His Highness– more specifically, a type of poison made out of foxglove, which I was forced to buy under the wrong impression that it would be used to create a medicine. Lord Faba and his subordinate were intending to marry His Highness to a young maiden that would later poison him to gain the throne."

The king and queen gasp, and Ilima's eyes widen– he has heard the story before, but Moon can see he's starting to believe her now. "Your words are scathing, but you still have not shown us proof of any kind– in fact, you have not named the identity of this alleged subordinate."

Faba cackles. "Indeed, indeed! Who's this mysterious, non-existent subordinate I am planning things with, hm? Because if you have cleaned for them, that means you know them, do you not, _scoundrel_?"

"I do, Lord Faba."

"Then, who is it? Is it a farmer, maybe some petty criminal? Who is it going to be, little girl? Will you dare say their name out loud?"

Moon takes out an envelope from her apron, with Lord Faba's address and name attached to it, and holds it up.

"His subordinate is Miss Agatha Berlitz– my stepmother; and the woman they sought to sit on the throne is none other than my sister, Sabrina Berlitz."

Lord Faba pales, looking like he's been punched in the gut, and Moon looks at the envelope as the room falls into a devastated hush.

"Mother… I always believed she had the best of intentions, and when I found out about their cooperation and plans… I was shocked. I went the first dance out of curiosity, but... the next time we met, I was attempting to warn you." Moon looks at the envelope. "The thought of anything happening to you at the hands of my mother… I couldn't bear it."

Lord Faba points a finger at her in indignation. "Filthy liar! Coming here uninvited to spout lies to your heart's content– even incriminating your poor suffering mother. Why should anyone trust the words of a terrible daughter?"

Ilima turns to Lord Faba with a scowl. "I believe that should be enough of that."

"Enough? Enough of what? Enough of this little girl running her tongue just because she got one second of attention from your Highness? We must put this little irresponsible peasant in her place."

Lord Faba descends the staircase, and with a snap of his fingers, Moon hears the guards behind her unsheathe their swords. A shudder runs down her spine. The lord circles her carefully, looking her up and down with his nose perked in superiority.

"I, Lord Faba the III, shall give this little peasant a lesson in humility. You must be a truly vile scoundrel to betray your own family like this, young lady."

Moon balls her fists, holding her chin up. "I'm not vile, I'm not a scoundrel–"

"Silence!"

In one swift motion, Lord Faba's sword is pointed to her throat. Moon freezes, the hairs at the back of her neck standing up.

"Lord Faba, this is inappropriate behavior! Pull yourself together!" exclaims the king from his throne, rising to his feet at the outrage he's witnessing.

"You see, little girl… in ancient times, people would cut off limbs as a form of punishment, and I cannot find anything that fits your deserved punishment that will keep you breathing." The blade presses a bit onto her pulse. Moon feels something warm drip down her neck. "Perhaps this will serve as a good reminder to never–"

The sound of a blade being freed. The glint thereof, shining against Faba's neck as one of Ilima's bodyguards stands behind him.

"You will _not_ lay a finger on her, Lord Faba."

That voice–

Moon's breath hitches. Spirited eyes, and an emerald glower that could fend demons away. Lord Faba chuckles. "And here I was, wondering how long it would take for the traitor to speak up."

"Gladion," Moon mutters, shaking her head. "Lower your sword."

"You're bleeding," he points out between gritted teeth, still glaring at Faba. "I won't lower my sword until he drops his. I'm an enforcer of the law first and foremost, Lord Faba, and you're threatening a civilian for unfounded claims."

At the throne, Ilima's hand hovers over his own sword. "Drop your weapon this instant, Lord Faba."

Unmoving, Lord Faba looks at Moon with sharp hatred, as though he will plunge the blade into her throat at any moment.

Moon, knowing she can't reason with this man, turns to Gladion instead. "Gladion, _please_. Lay down your blade. If you side with me–"

"I trust you," he mutters, so quietly nobody but she and Faba would hear him. "I know you're telling the truth."

"He knows about your family, Gladion." His eyes widen, and Moon bites her lip as a smirk curls Lord Faba's lips. "If you defend me, he will have you arrested."

"I don't care," he says, yet Moon notices how he's biting his lip, frowning, "I– I don't care. You're telling the truth."

"Stop yipping around me!" Lord Faba demands, tightening his hold on his sword. "If you were the enforcer of the law you claim to be, you would arrest her immediately, you simpleton!"

Ilima interrupts him. "Lord Faba, could you explain yourself? You claim to be innocent, yet your actions imply otherwise. Explain yourself."

"I have nothing to explain! I am being framed for a crime I have nothing to do with! All of this is a gross misinterpretation, a ploy!" Lord Faba plays with his beard as he lowers his blade. Gladion moves between him and Moon. "True, I exchange correspondence with Madam Berlitz, as we have been friends for years, but the reasons behind our acquaintanceship is harmless."

"I read the letters," Moon insists. "You're planning to poison His Highness and put someone of your favor in his stead."

"You speak plenty of poison, yet show no evidence thereof, peasant! What is it you have to prove your words, hm?"

Moon glances around: everyone is looking at her expectantly. Slowly, Moon slips her hand into the envelope.

She holds up a finger, stained burgundy. "The little packets the poison came in had the palace's seal, but were clumsily crafted. If my estimates are correct, the small dose that leaked into this envelope is enough to kill two people."

Gladion tenses. Lord Faba gawks at her. "That is _not_ poison!"

Moon frowns. "So you do admit this is yours?"

"You have no proof of that! Besides, how can you so haughtily claim that this is poison? It is simply some paint pigment I cultivated in my private garden. I, Lord Faba the III, have always been known for being an expert in gardening."

Moon and Gladion trade silent looks.

Gladion glares at Faba. "So drink it."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"Drink this flower powder, if you're so confident," Gladion snarls. He holds his sword up. "Unless you know it _is_ poison, and you don't want to die, Lord Faba."

Moon holds her breath, silently thanking Gladion for being so sharp.

And then… Lord Faba starts laughing, to the confusion of everyone in the room.

He holds his stomach with his free arm as he laughs.

"Fools, all of you are fools!"

The king frowns, hands balled into fists. "Faba! Explain yourself!"

Lord Faba cackles. "You see, this kingdom will do better without foolish kings and ridiculous charming princes, anyway– so the charade ends today!"

With a snap of his fingers, the guards near the thrones turn against the queen, holding swords to her throat, while another holds the prince at bladepoint. The king takes a sword out from under his cape, and Faba keeps cackling to himself while Gladion shields Moon from the rest.

"What is the meaning of this, Uncle Faba?" asks Ilima, gripping his sword tight. "You dare turn our soldiers against us?"

"I am taking back what belonged to me– and not you, you absolute dimwit!" Lord Faba turns to Moon again, his eyes filled with hatred. "Had you been quiet for a little longer, and maybe you would have been spared– maybe even crowned, you fool!"

Moon gulps, looking around herself, watching the guards approach her and Gladion. "Even if I die today, I will hold no regrets for speaking the truth."

"What a half-hearted sentiment of heroism. A shame it will all end tonight!" Another snap of his fingers. "Execute them!"

Noise explodes around her. Gladion pushes her to the ground as he defends her from a guard. Moon escapes, dodging through the crowd of armed guards. She hears Prince Ilima shouting, she hears men screaming, swords clashing with swords.

Moon looks around, picks up the skirt of her rags, and bolts upstairs to the rooms of the palace. In the distance, she hears Lord Faba screaming. "Do not touch the girl– leave her to me!"

Moon ducks and tumbles into the right wing with a yelp, but picks up again as she hears steps following right after her.

"You will not escape, little girl! I will give you first-hand execution for ruining my plans!"

Moon _runs_. She runs like she never has before, until her feet are sore and doesn't know what's left and right anymore.

With a turn into another room, Moon thinks she might have lost him.

Or so she thought.

Moon is met with none other than Faba, whose smile is so wicked it makes her scream in horror. He covers her mouth and slams her on the ground so hard that she sees double. He seizes her throat, squeezing hard.

Moon kicks and screams, but he covers her mouth, muffling her noises. Air begins to leave her. Her lungs churn in agony. Her limbs feel weak, her sight is clouding.

Lord Faba's expression is that of pure hysteria. "Do you see it? Do you see it now? All your hard, stupid sacrifices were for nothing! _Nothing_! You are worthless! Suffering for a drop of attention, a lick of fame!"

Faba keeps her there, watching her as Moon struggles to breathe, struggles to move, struggles to keep her eyes open. It's like life is slipping between her fingers.

"Next time you wake up, if you ever do, you will be locked up in a prison, where I will torture you to my heart's content!" His eyes twinkle like fire. "How does it feel, knowing you will never say goodbye to that simpleton of a knight in shining armor?"

Her heart is beating out of her chest. She can't hear nearly anything outside her own screaming outside his threats, outside his taunting.

And then, her hands drop and her legs stop moving with one last faltering breath– and Lord Faba laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRANGERRRR 
> 
> I know I know I KNOW IT WAS A VERY LONG CHAPTER BUT WE NEEDED THE CONFRONTATION, THE PAIN, THE DRAMA, and finally giving Ilima a semblance of a redemption LMAO but also brutally and suddenly introducing Faba, the man I despise the most in any fic I write, IT NEVER FAILS TO IMPRESS ME HOW MUCH I HATE HIM
> 
> so yes I liked this chapter :)))) I will not talk about Agat-- WELL YOU KNOW WHAT??? I WILL. I HATE HER. I HATE EVERYTHING SHE STANDS FOR. I HATE HOW SHE TALKS. I HATE THAT SHE HAS SUCH A TIGHT GRIP ON MOON BUT that Moon is clever that I don't hate it's just a note AND I HATE HOW SABRINA IS JUST SO QUIET. SO ACCEPTING. I HATE THIS FAMILY HRRRRRRRR
> 
> "Moon, dear, would you be so kind as to follow me upstairs?" - this line gave me PTSD for reasons I will not discuss
> 
> tbh tho I'm really proud of the scene with Agatha and Moon, idk it flows nicely, BUT ALSO MY GIRL IS FINALLY AT HER DEVELOPMENT PEAK SHE'S FINALLY OFF THE SHACKLES IM TYPING ALL IN CAPS BECAUSE IM REALLY EXCITED FJBHKDNJLSKMÑL YOU GO GIRL
> 
> also protective Gladion go brrrrrr
> 
> "You will not lay a finger on her, Lord Faba." - GO BRR I SAID
> 
> god I loved this chapter
> 
> is Moon dead though???? that'd be an awesome ending hehehehehehe
> 
> HEHEHEHEHEHEHE tata babes


	10. Chapter 10

When Moon comes to, she's lying on something oddly solid, comforting. Sunlight warms her closed eyes. Her mind begins to wake up before her body does, and Moon can only wonder where on earth she is.

She has never slept in a place this warm, this soft. Her fingers slide tentatively against silk sheets, the plush bounce of the mattress. The pillow under her head casts her head in a welcoming embrace. The duvet on top of her is heavy, but not uncomfortably so– it's the only kind of comfort one would find in a place like this.

Wait… In _what_ place?

Moon stirs, and faint gasps ring around her. A soft weight is clasped around her hand, squeezing as she groans faintly.

"Moon? Are you awake?"

She's tempted to say no and go back to sleep– this kind of amnesiac bliss feels amazing.

Just as she relishes in how little she remembers is when she starts to remember.

And her eyes flutter open.

At the foot of her bed, she can make the blurry shapes of luxurious furniture and vases full of flowers. The walls are colored cream, and the window to her right is open, its sheer, golden-rimmed curtains blowing in the silver wind.

As she sits up, someone hugs her tight, causing her to yelp and nearly fall back on the bed. The feel of his clothes hasn't changed, and his embrace is so familiar she almost bursts into tears.

"You're awake," he mutters into her shoulder, caressing her hair. "Thank _goodness_ you're okay. We thought you would just spend the rest of your life unconscious."

Gladion carefully peels himself from her arms before she can hug him back, and looks at her with the same frown he's always had– except there's concern and something more in his eyes she's never seen before, and it makes her smile lazily.

But then, the reality of the past strikes her like a star, and she gasps in horror, grasping Gladion's hand tightly. "Is His Highness alright? Wait, are _you_ alright, as well?"

Gladion nods. "Yeah, of co–"

Moon looks around. "What about everyone else? Are the king and the queen okay? Why am I here? How did I even get here when– _when_ –"

Her throat constricts as the wicked smile of that man comes to mind. Gladion rubs soothing circles on her back. "Don't worry, everyone is safe– me, His Highness, and you, too. I promise."

"Are you sure?" He nods, firmly, and she lets herself relax under his touch. "Where is everyone, then?"

At that precise moment, the door clicks open, and the prince appears at the doorway. His eyes brighten when he sees her, and the guards behind him whisper to one another.

"Ah, how joyous to see you awake." The prince's smile widens by the second. "I'm glad to see you are well, Moon. Does anything hurt?"

So the prince _is_ okay. She shakes her head softly. "I'm a little sore, but nothing is broken."

"I will still call the doctor, he said he would like to check on you once you wake." He nods at his guards to follow him out. "Meanwhile… Enjoy your alone time. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

The prince and his guards leave. Before she can wrap her clouded mind around Ilima's words, Gladion reaches out and cups her cheeks.

He kisses her– and there goes all her focus. He cradles her face gently, tilting her head, pressing his lips against hers in a heartfelt gesture that reminds her of that goodbye they shared after the last dance. Moon's eyes flutter shut as she leans into the kiss with a little smile.

It's a chaste kiss, a short one, but when he breaks it, he doesn't go too far. Moon speaks through a weak whisper, "Gladion–"

And he kisses her again. Her head fills with colors and lights, chasing the fog away, and then he breaks away before kissing her once more, interrupting her over and over until she's giggling and telling him to stop.

With a hand on his chest, she steadies herself, though she's sitting and she shouldn't feel as dizzy as she does. Moon shakes her head, smiling. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," he answers plainly, still tracing the top of her cheeks with his thumbs. "You should know, considering you did it first."

Moon's cheeks redden and a squeak escapes her. "S-Still! I had a reason to kiss you!"

"And so do I."

Gladion takes hold of her hands, smiling as he caresses her knuckles with his thumbs. Her heart thuds against her ribcage; she's never seen such a silly, soft smile on him.

"Before leaving the dance, you said you didn't want to marry His Highness anymore." He frowns a little as he says that, and gazes at her. "Is that true?"

Moon nods softly, pursing her lips. "I'm sorry for running my mouth like that and kissing you before just– _disappearing_. I didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did."

"I didn't mind it– the kiss, that is." Moon bites her lip at his words. "I was very upset that you disappeared into thin air and then popped up again to dance with him. I thought you didn't want to be with me anymore."

She takes one hand out of his to touch his cheek. "I wanted to be with you more than anything– I still do. I don't think I can be apart from you anymore, so I simply won't."

Gladion blinks furiously. She watches as his cheeks slowly catch heat.

Moon realizes what she's just said and her face grows hot too. "I– I mean, only if you want me to, of course! I wasn't joking when I said I wanted to– to marry you. I do. I _really_ do."

If he was blushing red moments ago, he's downright purple now, which makes her laugh– but then he kisses her, eagerly so, inviting her to lose herself in his embrace like she's been dying to for weeks.

She clenches the fabric of his shirt as his arm circles her waist and his free hand winds into her bed-tousled hair, sliding her lips against his slowly, leisurely, knowing that they're safe to do whatever they want to do now.

They can be whatever they want to be.

Gladion sighs into the kiss, and with a light push, they fall into the blankets.

Ilima's smile is pure teasing when he comes back.

"Well, I can't say I did not expect a little... affection, though I thought you'd be a little more discreet about it."

Moon's hair is a little more tousled than it was before, and the blush on her face is a sharp contrast to Gladion's pale expression, absolutely unbothered.

Still, he's holding her hand in his very, very tightly.

The queen sits down by the bed as well. She smiles at Moon kindly. "We are delighted to see you recovering well. The doctor also mentioned you may have some issues recalling the events from yesterday."

Moon holds her head, grimacing. "I remember some things... there was a fight, wasn't there?"

"Mhm," Ilima nods. "But Uncle– _Lord_ Faba chased after you."

"And he tried to suffocate you," Gladion continues through gritted teeth. "He was still strangling you when we found you, even though you were already unconscious."

Moon brings a hand to her neck, hissing at the soreness of her muscles. It takes her a full minute to remember. She recalls Faba's wicked expression, laughing as he tried to kill her.

A shudder runs down her spine. "Oh. _That_."

"Gladion was the one who found you." Ilima gestures at his bodyguard. "We rushed you to a safe place before continuing the battle. We thought you wouldn't wake up for a while, and I don't think I have ever seen someone panic as much as–"

"She doesn't need to know the details," Gladion mutters, earning a laugh from Ilima and a lopsided smile from Moon. "What matters is that you're safe now. You saved the Prince's life, Moon."

Moon blinks. "I… I did?"

The king nods with a blinding smile. "We sincerely owe you our lives. Had you not spoken about Lord Faba's plans, we would have never known. We suspected somebody was conspiring against our son, but to think it was someone of our own family…"

"I owe you an apology for not believing you the first time you warned me, as well," Ilima adds, sighing. "It was utterly shameful of me to get distracted trying to win you over, instead of looking out for my safety."

But Moon dismisses his words with a shake of her head. "I understand your distrust. I didn't have the necessary proof, and it was only fair of you to not believe me right away. Please, don't apologize."

Beside her, Gladion smiles, and Ilima laughs heartily. "Well then, I have no other option but to accept your request."

"Speaking of proof, though." The queen looks at Moon in concern. "I believe we should inform you that both Lord Faba and Madam Agatha Berlitz have been arrested."

" _What_?" She couldn't care less about Lord Faba, but her _mother_? "Mother has been arrested?"

"We investigated her manor, and…" Prince Ilima sighs. "She had copious amounts of poisonous substances in her office, as well as archived letters hidden in her bookshelf. It was more than enough to warrant an arrest, though Sabrina Berlitz's involvement will have to be investigated further."

Moon's heart shrinks, and her stomach twists in horror. Justice has been served and the prince is safe now, but Moon has been the one to sink her family's future to the ground. It doesn't feel right.

Gladion pats her hand soothingly. Ilima clears his throat. "We also investigated the house from corner to corner. You slept in the bedroom at the top of the tower, didn't you?"

Moon nods. The prince and his bodyguard share a concerned look.

Ilima folds his arms. "You have been residing there all your life? I find it astonishing that you never fell ill. That room was never suited to be a bedroom. Nobody can sleep on a bed of hay for their entire life."

She lowers her eyes to the duvet over her legs. "I never felt truly comfortable, but it served its purpose. I had a nicer bed back in my father's estate, but when we moved in with Mother, she insisted this would be good for my back."

"Well, the good news is, that does not matter anymore," the king tells her. "You will never need to go back to that house, now that Madam Berlitz is in jail. Miss Sabrina is being watched by the royal guard, and it is very likely neither will ever go back to that house."

Moon gasps. Suddenly, they've swept her crutches off her hands and now she has to stand on her own. Fear and apprehension wash over her. "But– they are my family! What am I to do now? I– I have nobody left."

"You have me," Gladion says in a very soft whisper. "I'm not your biological family, but… I'm always going to be here for you."

Moon's heart melts at that. "I– I know. I know," she replies, pursing her lips. "But Father, he– he made me promise I would keep our family together, and I suppose Mother hates me, now."

The conflicted look the queen and king share suggests exactly that, and the thought alone horrifies her.

But still...

Her throat tightens, and tears prickle in her eyes before trailing down her cheeks as relief washes over her in a white wave. She's alone now– and that means she can start anew, doing whatever she wants wherever she wants. Moon doesn't need to be anybody's puppet anymore. The ties have been severed.

Gladion sits beside her, swinging an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. He still looks as unbothered as can be, but...

"You still did the right thing," he assures her quietly, and Moon nods as she lets herself crumble in his arms. "You did _so_ great."

Ilima nods in agreement. "You saved my life, and by extension, maybe my family's as a whole. Seeing as you have gone through terrible circumstances to have your word heard, I deem it necessary we reward you handsomely."

"Reward?"

The queen nods. "You can ask for anything you want. We will provide you with proper clothing, food, a house… anything else you may need."

Moon looks at Gladion, confused: she's never been told to just _wish_ for anything. It's just a lot to ask. It's too much pressure on petite shoulders like hers.

That's when she remembers something that _Gladion_ needs. She looks at the family dead on.

"I, um… there's something… About Gladion's situation with his family," Gladion tenses against her, and she bites her lip, "I…"

"We are aware of the issue," the king confirms, smiling at both of them. "After the battle, Gladion approached us and explained the situation."

Moon blinks in wonder. "You simply _told_ them?"

"I saw how you fought to get your word out, and I didn't like hiding things from the prince anyway." Gladion sighs, giving her an uncomfortable smile. "It wasn't the most pleasant of conversations, but I'd be damned before I let myself be controlled by anybody again."

"While Madam Lusamine's research is legally and morally bankrupt, we're aware of the mental conditions that led to it, and we know that her intentions weren't vile. We cannot punish her for that." Ilima smiles as Gladion winces. "And maybe it's a good time to tell you that, as you requested, your royal pardon has been conceded."

Moon and Gladion gasp in surprise. His grip on her tightens. "You… are you serious?"

The king nods, laughing. "Why are you so surprised? You asked for it so vehemently we could not turn our heads. You have served our son with honor and loyalty, and you deserve nothing less."

Moon smiles at Gladion, whose frame begins to shake; it's her turn to offer comfort, hugging him and murmuring soft words to ease his heart.

She runs a hand up and down his side. "You're so reckless, risking your head like that. What if they had not forgiven you?"

He huffs, "Better to go to jail to pay for my crimes than to have another self-righteous prick trying to use my past against me."

"Besides," Ilima smiles cheekily, "Gladion insisted that he didn't want his future wife to marry a criminal. Very classy, Gladion."

Moon's lips part. Gladion has turned away, but the tips of his ears are red. "You're the silliest man in the face of Earth. Don't you understand that I chose you as my future husband even if I knew you weren't exactly an angel?"

"I still didn't want you to be chased for being my wife. I don't want anybody to chase after us anymore, be it Lord Faba, be it your mother," Gladion grumbles irritatedly. "I want to be happy. With you."

Moon sighs with a content smile.

"You can ask for absolutely anything you desire, Moon," Ilima reminds her, folding his arms. "You can ask for a new house if you wish. Or a place in our castle as a lady-in-waiting. For as long as you wish."

Moon shakes her head. "I don't want any of that." She plays with her fingers, lowering her head. "I… I would like to ask for money."

Gladion lets out a surprised noise. "Money? What do you want it for? Are you going to buy more teeth-rotting malasadas at the market?"

Moon playfully elbows his side, and everyone bursts into easy laughter. "Not malasadas," she answers with an annoyed smile. "I want money to travel. I want to help Gladion find the cure for his mother's illness."

The room goes quiet. The family trades looks, and Gladion's eyes are about to bulge out of their sockets. "What… what do you mean?"

"I could help you look for the medicine if I visit your mother." Moon grabs his hand and squeezes it. "I want to meet your family, too. And I would like to pay respects to your father, see where you grew up." Moon looks at the ceiling as she distracts herself with the foreseeable future. "If we run out of money, we can open a clinic in your hometown. You are fairly competent in pharmacy, and I know a bunch of things about medicine– we can keep learning together."

Moon can already imagine their future: sharing a plush bed in a cottage full of hanging plants and delicious foods. Wide, clear windows and the smell of mint, herbs and fruits, and cleaning supplies. The jingle of the doorbell as clients enter the clinic. Watching the sun sink over the horizon as, year by year, they grow older, but they do so _together_.

And Gladion is speechless. "You… you want to do all of that? With me?"

"Who else would I do all of it with?"

He purses his lips, cheeks rosy. "Moon, I… this wish is meant for _you_. To fulfill all those dreams you had. What about that?

Moon shakes her head, stifling laughter.

"Oh, you can be so silly. You made my dreams come true. It's only fair I make yours true now, is it not?"

Gladion stares at her for three seconds before he lunges forward to hug her again, and all she can do is laugh along with the royal family as she relishes in his happiness and her own, foreseeing a future bright like none other.

* * *

Before they begin planning their trip, Moon visits the prince with a request. Gladion trails right behind her and nearly trips when he hears what Moon wants to ask.

"I wish to visit my mother."

Ilima and Gladion exchange looks of surprise, unsure of how to answer. The prince curls a finger under his chin. "Are you sure? Madam Berlitz is not one for visits nowadays. Perhaps it would be better if you don't."

But Moon shakes her head. She's aware of the responsibility she carries with her. She has backstabbed her family; she will have to own up to it.

"Please, Your Highness. I want to see her one last time. We don't know when we will come back to this town, so... I should say goodbye."

The prince ends up accepting, but not without a request of his own. "Please, call me by name. I think we're very much above things like these."

Moon bows her head. "Yes, Your Highness– sorry. Ilima. Is that okay?"

She supposes this casual talk is what being friends entails. In the same way, being a daughter of Agatha entails visiting her, even if it's at the pit of a dark cold jail.

Gladion insists on going with her. He's not convinced Agatha won't lash out at Moon just because she's in the hole she dug for herself, and while Moon wants to tell him she'll be fine, she isn't sure either.

As they descend to the dungeons of the palace, Moon briefly wonders what Agatha will offer today. Will it be irritation? Will it be bitterness? Will it be anger?

When they reach the cell, it turns out to be cold, murderous contempt.

Gone is the opulent and elegant head of the Berlitz House, replaced by an old, scrawny woman dressed in purple rags, damp with humidity. Her hair looks grayer than Moon remembers it, and though they lived together until a few days ago, it's like years have passed between then and now.

"You look absolutely hideous," Agatha barks, staring at Moon's clean dress. She sits at the back of the cell on a chair. Gladion stands right by Moon's side, watching Agatha, and the woman chuckles. "Look at you, dressed like the noblewoman you surely know you are not. And you even have a bodyguard with you, I see."

Moon squares her shoulders. "Good morning, Mother."

"Do _not_ call me that. You are no longer my family." Agatha scowls. "I hope you are proud of yourself."

Moon stares at Agatha in silence. As she stands up, Gladion pushes Moon a careful step back and stands between them.

"Oh, are you scared of me? Is guilt for betraying the woman that loves you the most poking your cold, dead heart?" Agatha smirks. "You are a disgrace, Moon. A disastrous disgrace."

Moon folds her hands on her front, regarding her stepmother solemnly. Her silence enrages Agatha, however, who grabs her walking stick to jab it on the stone ground.

"Did you forget how to speak? Are you not here to apologize as you should? I raised you to be better than this! The least you could do is apologize for becoming the heartless monster you promised you would never be!" Agatha grits her teeth. "And you bring an armed guard with you? To attack your poor mother?"

Gladion sighs. "Moon asked to come here to see how you were feeling, ma'am. I'm only here as her bodyguard."

"You do _not_ talk to me like that, young man– I know who you are. Another disgrace that would have better been off dead. I should have allowed Lord Faba to have his way with you." She says it far too easily. A chill runs down her spine. "And you, Moon. Are you just going to stand there, all quiet and scared? You are exactly as cowardly as the lowly peasant you are."

But Moon remains silent, watching Agatha patiently. If this had happened to her past self, if Gladion was not here with her, she would be crying already. But his presence is a dear reminder that she isn't alone anymore.

Not like Agatha wants her to be.

In a fit of impatience, Agatha swings her walking stick at the bars of her prison, and the stick breaks into halves.

"Answer me, you ungrateful child! Grovel and apologize for what you have done to me, to your sister, to your _family_! Is this the pride you show as a Berlitz, house of nobility, of wealthy men and successful feats? You do not deserve your name, your dress, _nothing_! Dead is as good as you should be, _dead_!" Agatha's lower lip trembles. Her whole frame shakes. "Answer me!"

"I don't owe you any answers," Moon says with a steady voice. "I believe you answered all your questions on your own, Madam Duchovy. Berlitz is the name of my father, and a name you never had the right to call your own."

"I married your father– an equally ungrateful and miserable man!" Her hands ball to fists. She steps on the broken shards of her walking stick. "Do _not_ talk to me like that, Moon! I still raised you, and you will always be mine!"

"Moon is not yours, Madam Duchovy," Gladion says, aggravated. "You just claimed Moon is no longer your child, and by legal standards, she's an adult. Moon has _never_ been yours."

"She is still a child! Acting on a whim, going against her mother, against her poor, suffering mother! Look at her, looking at me with those pitiful eyes. You are a sham, a disaster, a cold, terrible monster!" Agatha grips the bars of her jail. "Treating your family like–"

"You're not my family," Moon interjects softly. "You have never been my mother, and it is time I stop addressing you as such."

Agatha shakes in ire. "How dare you interrupt me? How dare you disrespect me? How dare you, _how dare you_!?"

Moon flinches at her yelling. The truth is much easier to see with Agatha behind bars, where there's a physical barrier between them that prevents Agatha from doing so much as touching her.

Moon looks down for a second, and then touches Gladion's tense shoulder. "I think it's time we go."

With a nod, Gladion places a hand on the small of her back and walks Moon out of this place.

"Come back here! Come back! This is not over, do you hear me!?" Her yells grow faint as Moon ascends the stairs. "I will find you! You will come back like the cowardly spoiled brat you are! You cold, heartless, _terrible_ child!"

Moon wipes her cheeks clean, and Gladion squeezes her hand. They walk out of the darkness of the dungeons and step into the light.

* * *

A few days after her last visit to Agatha, Moon has one last request for Gladion.

"There's somebody I would like you to meet. Someone very important." Moon adjusts her wool jacket over her dress and grabs one of his hands. "It will only take a moment."

Moon leads him through the streets until they're walking into a quiet graveyard where plants grow scarce, past tombs made of stone. They walk to a secluded spot with a magnolia tree at the back, where vegetation is a little greener.

Moon kneels before the tombstone and clasps her hands. "I know this is a little out of the blue, but…"

"Is… is it okay for me to be here? I know this is a bit personal, and I don't want you to feel compelled to invite me."

She shakes her head. "I want you to stay. If you want to stay."

After a brief pause, he nods. With a hoarse voice, as though struck by emotion, he mumbles, "I will listen."

She turns to the tombstone again. Her gaze goes over the name on the tomb, the dates, the little message at the bottom, and the patch of grass that has erupted between the cracks of the stone.

"Good evening, Father," Moon whispers. "I know it took a long time for me to visit, but… Mother– _Madam Duchovy_ was very adamant about me not being sad by visiting you. I have many times asked myself why you would marry her, why someone as kind and patient as you would marry someone as hard to love as her."

The air listens, brushing her hair aside gently. She tucks one strand of hair behind her ear, keenly aware of Gladion's gaze on her, of the weight in her pockets.

"I can't know if you are watching me. Maybe you find me silly." She sighs, closing her eyes. "I promised you I would look after our family, that I would do my best to make those I love happy– but I suppose I wasn't strong enough, Father. I simply wasn't."

Moon listens to the world as it keeps spinning, watching her with eyes everywhere she looks. It's a kind sort of vigilance. Patience. Silence.

"I met someone else while I was in Madam Duchovy's care. I don't know if you can see him, but… his name is Gladion. He's a little bit of my guardian angel, though he probably loathes me calling him that."

"I do _not_ loathe it," he says with a disgruntled voice, embarrassed. "It's just– it's cheesy."

Moon shakes her head at him, and then regards her father again. "Please, don't listen to him. He's a bit of an enigma sometimes, but… I love him dearly, and I think he loves me too. Much more than Madam Duchovy and Sabrina did. Perhaps you're disappointed about this, but… I think I also deserve to be happy, Father. And he makes me very, very happy."

Beside her, Gladion kneels as well, adopting the same posture as her. Moon smiles to herself, taking a little courage from his support.

Closing her eyes, Moon frowns slightly as she speaks again, "I tried my best to make everyone happy, but it was always me that _wasn't_ happy, Father. Sometimes I feel guilty, thinking I could have done more, but… if you're watching, you know I did my best, and that I must move on. You would have wanted me to be happy, too, and maybe, I can make my future family happy."

"You will," Gladion whispers. Moon opens one eye. His eyes are still closed. "I'm sure you will."

She smiles. Those words alone bring serenity to her soul. "I promise I will be good, brave, and pious, Father. And that no matter where I go, I will remember you. I think I have made my peace. I can only hope you forgive me for having to leave, Father."

Moon slowly digs a hole into the soil beside the grave. Dusting off her hands, she takes out the glass slippers that had been her blessing and disgrace.

She places the little slippers in the hole.

Moon pushes the soil back in place, sealing the slippers under the ground. She stares at the little mound once more, remembering the times she danced in them and ran away with them, remembering how she regained her life, all thanks to a lost shoe.

A crisp breeze blows under her nose, and she sneezes. Gladion frowns beside her and stands up, offering her a hand. "We should get going before you catch a cold. I told you to bring something warmer."

With a gentle smile, Moon takes his hand and stands up. Gladion walks a few steps ahead, probably to allow her one last goodbye in private.

She throws a smile his way, then turns to look down at the grave one last time.

"Rest in peace, Father, and I hope that wherever you are, you're proud of me. I'm sorry I have to go, but I promise I will live the happiest life I can."

She bows.

"Goodbye, Father. I will see you again, one day. Wish me luck!"

Moon turns around and chases after Gladion. They walk together, bickering over cold noses and hands, and missing the thin layer of snow beginning to fall around them.

* * *

One day later at sunset, Moon rushes across the bridge at the back of the palace, carrying a suitcase behind her, and when Gladion catches sight of her, he opens his arms to receive her in a suffocating, affectionate hug.

She laughs at his eagerness, looking at him with curiosity. He clears his throat. "Would you believe me if I said I thought you wouldn't come?"

She giggles as Gladion presses his cheek against the crown of her head, clenching the fabric of his jacket. Moon sings, "You will not get rid of me that easily. You're stuck with me now."

"That's fine by me," he responds, sighing. "That's _absolutely_ fine by me."

"Maybe you should save some of that lovely affection for the honeymoon. I fear you might not make it to your wedding day otherwise."

Gladion half-steps out of the embrace to look at the prince, walking towards them with a calm smile stretching his lips. A few guards are loading an outrageous amount of money to their waiting carriage.

While Moon stares wide-eyed at the sheer amount of money they were given, Gladion clears his throat. "Don't worry, I will send you an invitation when we settle on a date. It's the least we owe you for the massive favor you're doing to us."

"It's not a problem. Moon's deeds are deserving of more than that. Alas, it does sadden me to see you part so soon, my friend."

Moon smiles wide. Gladion swallows at that last word. "Thank you, Your Highness. I hope we may meet again someday."

" _Please_ , stop referring to me as an authority. We have worked together for so long, so simply regard me as a friend." Ilima says, grinning. "Though if you ever wish to work here again, I will welcome you with open arms."

It takes him a few moments, but Gladion sighs at last, smirking. "Alright, um… _Ilima_. It feels strange without calling you by title."

Moon laughs. "Weren't you the one telling me calling him a friend was very, very easy?"

As they erupt into silly banter and joyous laughter, a guard comes back from the carriage approaching and saluting. "Your Highness, the money has been loaded! Is there anything you need from us?"

"Not at all. You're dismissed, and have a hearty dinner for your great work." The guards bow and march away. Ilima sighs at Moon and Gladion. "Well, then. I suppose it is time to say goodbye. I reckon it's too late to offer you my hand in marriage again, is it not?"

Moon chuckles and Gladion rolls his eyes. Despite his prior grievances with Ilima's feelings for her, he's taking it in stride. She shakes her head. "I'm surprised you would still desire a mere peasant like me. I'm no Selene of Burgundy, after all."

"There's a lot to a woman aside from how she dresses." He takes hold of her hand and presses his lips against her knuckles. "But if you ever seek a man with better hair than your boyfriend, I will be waiting."

Gladion huffs indignantly, clearly annoyed with Ilima's statement, and Moon calms him with a hand on his chest. "There's a lot to a man aside from how he styles his hair. Besides, he may not be a prince, but he's plenty dreamy on his own, wouldn't you agree?"

She grins as she hears Gladion choking on air beside her. It's entertaining to make him blush the same way he does to her when they're in private.

Judging by the silly smile pulling at his lips as he tries to hide his blush, Moon knows she's doing a good job.

Gently so, Gladion leads her towards the carriage. Ilima follows close behind.

Moon eyes the carriage closely. It doesn't resemble a pumpkin, the rims aren't gilded with gold and the horses aren't magically groomed mice, they're just horses. It's another kind of dream entirely.

As Gladion approaches the horses to feed them a pair of apples from his pockets, Moon turns to the prince once again.

She bows her head. "Thank you again for… well, everything. I never thought I would meet someone as kind as you."

To Moon's embarrassment, Ilima bows to her. "Thank you both for saving my life. The kingdom will be at peace thanks to your courage."

Moon stammers, "I– I didn't really–"

Gladion groans from where he's standing, but he's smiling. "If you dare say you didn't do anything, I'm calling off the wedding."

She gasps, pretending to be offended. "You wouldn't _dare_."

The prince laughs. "Thank you for being brave, Moon. I can only wish that for the next dance, you come in a dress of your own. And maybe I will have a lady to call my own by then."

Moon can picture the next dance: dancing with Gladion, him in a suit while she wears the dress she originally designed for the gala. No masks, no glass slippers, and no midnight deadline– just her and Gladion, dancing and walking around the gardens hand in hand as they laugh about the most absurd of things, kissing under the moonlight and loving each other for eternity.

The future is bright.

Moon turns to the man of her dreams, smiling as his platinum hair glints in the sunset. Gladion moves to her side and loops an arm around her waist, and she kisses his cheek, smiling.

They climb into the carriage, and as she shifts her shawl over her shoulders, they begin to move away from the palace. They wave at the royal guard and the prince with teary eyes, and then Moon swears she hears the familiar twinkle of a wand waving goodbye.

When Moon tucks her head back into the carriage, a soft weight lands on her lap. A bag of malasadas, steaming with the familiar scent of peach jam. There's a little piece of paper on top.

Moon reads it: _Good job, missy_.

A warm smile curls her lips, thinking of her dear godfather fondly. By her side, Gladion takes one of her hands into his own. "Things are looking bright now, aren't they?"

Moon beams at him, laughing with the wind. "They sure are!"

She kisses his cheek, leaning her head on his shoulder with a soft, contented smile.

The carriage drives into the orange horizon, leaving a life full of hurdles behind, and speeding into the dawn of a new, better dream.

_art by **[@Daidairo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daidairo/pseuds/Daidairo)**_ , beloved beta and artist!  
  


**\- FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby girl Dai, aforementioned good friend of mine, beta and also wonderful artist, gave me that beautiful art as a present for my birthday last 11th of February, and saying I squealed would be an understatement. She did a great job both with the art and helping me bring this fic to the best it could be, and for that I will be forever grateful. Thank you, Tangerine lady! ;;;
> 
> The ending was surprisingly soft and fullfilling despite being this tame, and I for one I'm so very happy with the result, both for the fic and the finale. Writing that scene with Agatha have me a kind of pleasure neither words or sounds can describe, so I'll just say I was on the floor the whole time SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS
> 
> finally the Fs in the chat have served their purpose. I'm SO glad
> 
> Gladion is so SOFT TOO AND SUCH A LOVING SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND look I know Gladion is edgier in canon but IS HE A MISTRATED, BLACKMAILED BODYGUARD WITH MOMMY ISSUES? YES AND NO. SO NO COMPLAINTS ARE ALLOWED HISS
> 
> also Moon. oh my big girlie Moon. she's grown so much. she's so mature now, making decisions for herself and HOMEGIRL'S GONNA OPEN A CLINIC I said it was only a possibility but in my head the image has been planted and idc about anything else in the world but her happiness. Feasibility? Idk her
> 
> Also fuck Faba. Fuck Agatha and fuck Agatha. Sabrina is a rare case of idc but I hope she dies offscreen. I wrote this and idk what happens to her but in my head I'm like 'I hope she dies by whatever arbitrary ulterior god that I won't be bothered to write lol'
> 
> also the cemetery scene :( little tears pricked my eyes as I reread it ngl
> 
> ANYWAY I hope you guys enjoyed this fic!! It took us months to finish it but it's been a pleasure to see it through its end. Thank you so much for your ongoing support, it made me happier than I can explain and I only hope to see you in future fics! Please give Dai some love as well, she's worked really hard too!
> 
> Thank you all so very much for your nice words and for reading. Catch you on the flip side!
> 
> Ta-ta!!!
> 
> Mirai, with love and serious fluff overdose hrr


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